


Let it snow

by Triyune



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Romance, Blindfolds, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Lingerie, Crossdressing, First Kiss, Handcuffs, High Heels, Hurt/Comfort, Joker in Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Romance, Seduction, Self-Doubt, Sentimental, Spooning, Strip Tease, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triyune/pseuds/Triyune
Summary: A notice makes Bruce Wayne seek the currently most dreaded and loathsome place of Gotham, the true pit of hell of all kitsch, sweetness and superficiality: The Christmas market. But it’s not a stranger waiting there for him; it’s the Joker. And what could be worse than this market or the Joker? Right. Both of them together.However, when their meeting takes an unexpected turn, new perspectives open up and Bruce comes to change his mind about this abhorrent thing of Christmas.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 23
Kudos: 47





	1. Let it snow

**Author's Note:**

> Never cared much about the lockdowns here, but just now, I miss the Christmas markets. And getting sloshed there.  
> For everyone who feels and longs for the same.  
> _  
> That piece was inspired by _Crusty Buns_ picture and supposed to be only a one-shot, but considering this desperate situation, I will continue and hope to finish the third chapter by the time of Christmas.  
>   
> (https://twitter.com/CrustyBunsArt/status/1336057669942009862)
> 
> Lyric snippets from the song _Happy Xmas_ by John Lennon

**Let it ~~snow~~ flow**

„Dear Mr. Wayne,  
I am an old friend of yours and I would like to ask you out for a walk around the Christmas market in front of the townhall, Friday, 6p.m. I will be waiting for you on the left bench in front of it. I hope you will find the time to come.”

On Friday, 5:30pm, I stood on the other side of the street, looking at the two benches. I had had to come to see who that was since I had a lot of “old friends” and quite some who I would not have met deliberately again.  
Indeed, there was a man sitting on the left bench. I could not tell who that was and I would try to find out before I'd approach him. I looked at what else lay in front of me. A loud hustle and bustle, Christmas songs swirling in the air, laughter and chatting and everyone smiling so stupidly, I could even see that from over here. A loathsome atmosphere, I hated it and had always tried to stay away from these places since it served to give me a rather bad feeling. When everyone was so jolly around me and lonely me in the middle of this, I just came to feel this loneliness so much more. But if that friend needed my presence I'd make an exception and do him that favour.

So I went down the street, away from the market, passed it and joined the masses on the Christmas market where I fought my way through happy and drunk people until I could see the benches. Hiding behind a clothes tree with scarves, I peered at the bench. A man, dressed in a classic black coat, black pants, pikes, leather gloves and a trilby sat there. I was sure he wouldn’t see me there. When he looked to the side to check the street, I frowned. I needed to get a little closer.

Hiding behind the first hut of the market, finally, I eyed him up again.  
The Joker.  
No doubt.  
I disappeared behind the pretzel hut and closed my eyes. Surely, that meant no well. I sighed, understanding that I had to meet him there though in order to prevent him from whatever he had planned. Annoyed that he had gotten me like that, I went back to the place where I had been standing about half an hour ago, facing his back. Walking towards him, I felt anger rising, but I tried to shove it aside to concentrate on what was to come. The next few hours wouldn't be pleasant at all and I ditched all hopes for a nice chat and some mulled wine. 

As silently as possible, I approached him and sat down on the bench to his right. He turned his head. Instantly, his gloomy face changed to brightness, which unsettled me. It wasn’t that typical mischievous look.

“I’m glad you showed up,” he said.

I heard that he had tried to make his voice sound as flat as possible, but that some unwanted emotions had snuck in. It made me frown for a moment, but I tried to concentrate on appearing as unimpressed as possible. If he was reaching out for Bruce Wayne it was going to be tough.

“If this is going to be just another one of your fucked up tricks I will punch you into coma and get you straight to Arkham,” I answered calmly, but with a certain threat in my voice.

“No knives, no bombs, no Mistress in distress, promise,” he replied.

“Then why am I here?” I demanded to know.

His look changed. The wrinkles on his forehead, the bits his hat bore at least, spoke of doubts and fear. He turned his head to look at the people in front of him again. After some moments, he opened his mouth to say something, but he kept silent and closed it again.

He felt cold. For an hour, he had been sitting there, motionlessly, waiting for him, not daring to get up and get him some tea because he had feared that he’d miss him that way. And he needed to see him so badly. It was the most horrible time of the year for him. Usually, around November, his mood changed and he would cheer up and he’d be full of zest for action, thinking up plans how to spoil their happiest time of the year. He had learned that people would rather get it when they would be caught by surprise and when they least expected it. He had always gone to extraordinary lengths to show people how wrong and how stupid their believes to which they clung to so desperately were. And Christmas seemed to be a good time for such an attack. He was sick of the superficial happiness around him, sick of their hypocritical merrymaking and dumb laughs.

This time, his mood had changed as usual again, but not as expected. By the end of November, he had been so depressed already that he had even considered hurting himself again after a pause of years. He could not explain it, he could not understand it. He could not see that he was suffering from the same kind of thing just everyone around him was suffering from. Just that those other people had different mechanisms of repression and thus, other ways of distraction. Deep inside, he felt terribly lonely. The realization that he was leading a pointless existence was eating him up.  
His hands, although he was wearing leather gloves, were cold. He put them in his pockets, then he looked back at me.

I was wondering what he was thinking about. Surely, it was just some fucked up plan. 

“I can’t tell you.”

I took a deep breath and turned up my mouth.

“I’m so tired of this shit,” I let him know, “Just tell me what it is this time and we can speed things up.”

I watched him clenching his teeth, then he bent his head to cover his eyes with the rim of his hat. 

“Honestly, I just wanted to meet someone normal in this town,” I heard the hat speaking.

“Someone normal?! And I am the only poor idiot you can meet in this town? Gotham has what, over 8 million citizens and you ask ME out?!”

I saw myself sitting in my cosy chair with some fine English breakfast tea and Alfred by my side, watching a stupid Christmas comedy on TV with the fire crackling next to us, warm and-

“Can you imagine Two-Face here? Or the Riddler? Not even Chasmin. You are kidding me.”

“No, _you_ are kidding _me_! You can’t be serious!”

My words had silenced him for good. He bent his head a little more. His lip was shaking. I couldn’t read him. Or maybe I could and refused to accept what I was feeling. I almost _heard_ him swallowing.

“Sorry,” he said with a thin voice, “I guess it was a bad idea.”

He got up and prepared to leave.  
He _was_ serious. Which made me curious. No bombs, no knives, no Mistress in distress and a weepy Joker. Better than any superficial Christmas comedy.  
Real life. Just in front of me.  
About to leave.  
I jumped from the bench and put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. He turned around, not hiding his sadness, ready to receive the final blow.  
And just then, for the first time, he seemed horribly human to me. I had always only seen the criminal, monster and misanthrope, but now, I saw the human. A human being who was dealing with feelings and obviously failing.

I felt so moved by those sad eyes that I stared into them some more. They had a magic in them which had caught me and didn’t let go of me anymore. This wretchedness, this pain, this forlornness. It seemed so familiar.

I couldn’t let him leave like that. If I did, I knew that I’d feel guilty when getting the newspapers on Sunday, reading that an explosion had blown up the town hall and all those happy idiots in front of it at midnight.  
Or maybe not at all. Maybe on Wednesday, I would read that the Joker had been found dead in his shabby flat. Finally, thank God. Only the stench had alarmed people and they had found his rotting corpse on the bed, the sheets covered with dried blood. With maggots and flies. And before he had killed himself, he had cut a huge Bat symbol into his own chest to show people that-

“What,” he asked, still disillusioned.

“Come,” I said and turned around to enter the Christmas market.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the masses of people, having quite a bad feeling about joining them with the Joker in tow, but then again, he seemed so disheartened that he wouldn’t even try to steal a mug there. Though, to make sure that my feeling was right and to get it checked by reason, I peered behind my shoulder to watch for him and indeed, I saw him following me.

Unbelievable.  
Like he was a normal man, he was walking behind me. Anyway. I stopped and waited for him to catch up with me, then I continued making my way through the crowd with him by my side. It felt strange, but no one else would know that it was me and the Joker and that helped me relax a little.  
Around us, people were doing their things, drinking, laughing and having fun and I hated it already after the first few metres, but I didn't have a choice today, so I tried to ignore it and concentrate on this walking pile of misery next to me.

We had passed two huts now, me having no idea at all what he was longing for or planning to do, and we were just conquering the third. Apparently, it wouldn't be him who'd take the initiative and tell me to stop somewhere. It was difficult to walk side by side there and various times, he made way for people. It was so untypical. Just when he showed up by my side again, I turned my head to glance at him, pretending to look at some stuff on the other side of the market.

The pain was gone, but insecurity was written all over his face, like he didn't dare to tell me what he'd like to do there now. I snorted with amusement, just witnessing a new side of that man who always seemed so self-confident and outgoing. Something was giving him quite a hard time, it was obvious. His suffering made me curious and I was tempted to find out about the cause. I grinned, suddenly having come up with an idea which was too good than to ditch it at those tender doubts which rose as I thought on it some more. 

I turned right and he followed me till we came to queue up for hot punch. Without turning my head, I peered at him, trying to tell what he thought of this idea. He seemed a bit flustered and I pursed my lips to keep myself from smirking. Well, what did he expect, asking me out on the Christmas market. What an idiot.

“Seriously?” he said, looking at me, finally.

The look in his eyes was so adorable that I tried to preserve it in my mind forever. Feelings and this man didn’t go well together.

“Absolutely seriously,” I replied and took a step forward, “You want Christmas market, you get Christmas market.”

It was him now who took a deep breath and settled for his fate with that. It was funny how I started feeling like a psychological babysitter in his presence today. We waited in silence until it was our turn and I ordered mulled wine for me and punch for him. When he didn’t say anything, I smiled, having guessed right. We took the cups and looked for a spare table somewhere, but there were people everywhere, so we just joined a couple. He took off the gloves and wrapped his fingers around the hot cup to warm them.  
We drank in silence. However, the drinks were so hot that we didn’t get on much with them and instead, both of us watched that couple next to us flirting and kissing. Yet again, I secretly glanced at him and found him watching them very attentively.

Just when they kissed for the fourth time, he snorted like an angry mare and turned away to look at the fairy lights on the roof of the hut. I leaned down on the table and kept watching them with a dumb smile until they felt disturbed by my intrusive presence and left the table.  
As he still was staring at the lights, I nudged his arm and said: “They’re gone, you sour puss.”

The atmosphere of this market was getting to me and I was turning more and more into him while he seemed to turn into _me_. Quite an interesting experience.  
He gave a short sarcastic laugh, took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, then he sipped his punch.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since when do you care?” he asked back, just intonating the same way as I had.

I lifted an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden bitterness and decided to try something out. 

“I’ve agreed on this for _you_ , God knows what’s gotten into me so I did, but now we’re here and you will behave yourself.”

“Yes, momma. Look,” he said, vividly shaking his head and glaring at me with narrowed eyes, “Just go fuck yourself. Thanks for the punch, asshole.”

So he spoke and so he went off. I bared my teeth, smiling such a nasty wide smile that my teeth froze instantly from the cold breeze brushing over them. Highly irritable, from pain to anger. I left my place and pulled him back to the table where I put the mug into his hand and patted his shoulder.

“Don’t make such a fuss, Jacky-Joe. Here, drink your punch, listen to the Holy Night and be jolly.”

I felt surprised at my own words which I had thrown his way so casually, but his anger was making me feel gleeful.  
He closed his eyes for a long time, then he opened them and looked at me for as long as he had kept them closed. Yet again, his look made my glee vanish and I came to see the true him. The man who longed for normality. Who spent his entire life in such a terrifying kind of psychotic hell that he probably didn’t know what a real candy cane actually looked like anymore. I dropped my smile and stared back, careful though, so not to scare him away with my directness.

People were dancing around us, kissing, laughing and cheering and the mix of three Christmas songs at the same time echoed back and forth between the townhall and the huge tree to my left, but between us, there was silence. A kind of silence which said more than any of those words which were filling up the air around us could have said.  
He was trying to read me and so was I, trying to read him. Until I arrived at the conclusion that we were not so different at all. Just different methods. I could accept that. For tonight.  
But _he_ couldn’t. 

He was the one who turned his head away first and buried his face in the mug to hide from me, but I boldly took the cup from his hand and took a swig to taste it. His cursory glance told me that I could do _anything_ to or with him now and he would take it without batting an eye. What the hell had gotten him into such a mentally fragile state.  
His punch tasted great. So great that I left the table and went to get me one too, leaving him alone for a minute to deal with his feelings. And I caught myself fearing that he'd have left by the time I'd return.

Though, when I came back, he was done with his punch too and just went to get himself another one too. I looked at the empty cup. There was lipstick on it.  
I gazed at it for too long. He came back and made me look up and when I saw his lips, I tried to imagine that there was lipstick on them. Why, anyway?  
Brown ceramic hid his lips from my eyes then and I blinked and searched for his eyes, but he had them closed as he drank.

“Not too bad either,” he said and looked me straight in the eye. 

And then it was me who had to turn away, otherwise I’d have kissed his lips with my eyes just another time. And I did not want that. Whatever else I wanted, it wasn’t _that_.

“The wine?”

“Yeah.”

I glanced at the mug, then back at him.

“Why are you here?” I asked him, finally.

He looked at me for another moment, then he turned his head and watched the crowd in front of us.  
I did not expect to get an honest answer; I just wanted to get to know him, to explore his mind, that mind which was behind all those insane plans and terrible crimes.

“Why did _you_ come?” he asked without looking at me.

Without thinking, I said: “Because I thought that a friend needed my help. Or simply my presence.”

I watched him moving his lips slightly, like he was moving his tongue around in his mouth. As he kept looking at the people, I kept looking at him until I realized that I had given myself the answer. But really?

“So you need my help?” I asked him.

What a nasty question. After pronouncing it, I was even proud of having come up with such a trump trope. Unfortunately, he noticed too and didn’t say anything. And just that told me more than a Yes or No could have.  
I chuckled to myself and had some more punch and he lit another cigarette. Until both our mugs were empty, we didn’t say any further word. I let him just enjoy my presence without any distraction if that was what he needed.

Up until now, I had not paid much attention to the songs which were coming from the loudspeakers of the drinking hut, but when they played _Happy Xmas_ by John Lennon, I looked up.

_So this is Christmas  
And what have you done?  
Another year over  
And a new one just begun_

I tried to defend myself against the magic of those words, but I could not _not_ listen. I glanced at him; he was staring at the crowd in front of us. Maybe he didn't hear it anyway.

_And so this is Christmas  
For weak and for strong  
The rich and the poor ones  
The road is so long_

I came to think of the two of us, even if I didn't want that. It could be so easy, actually. Lost in thoughts, I stared at the masses too until the song faded with them singing _War is over, if you want it_.  
It was getting to me, this atmosphere and I started to feel so vulnerable. I glanced at him again and he had his eyes closed, calmly resting there by my side. When the beginning of the next song merged with the end of this one, he opened his eyes, gazed at the people for a few moments and then secretly peered at me and I quickly moved my eyes to look at the people. I prayed that he was not just thinking what I thought now.

We spent some more minutes in this wakward silence until he took the mugs and returned them, then we joined the masses again and walking around in that mess of coats, hats and faces was much easier now after two drinks. I came to notice the decoration and the colourful potourri of scents there; cinnamon, apples, biscuits, sucking-pig. Fake snow on the huts, warm white lights everywhere, toys for the children, mohair pullovers, Christmas tree decorations.

Suddenly, he turned right and disappeared in the crowd and I hurried to look for him. I just found him standing in front of a shop, looking at the products displayed there. I shot them a glance, then I looked back at him, disbelieving what was just happening. This really was a weird time, the weirdest time of the year, actually. If the Joker was looking at handmade ceramic mugs the world’s end must have been very near.

“Wait a minute,” he said and turned towards the seller to tell him that he wanted just that pink mug with a gingerbread house, a snow-covered tree and candy canes instead of stars in the light blue sky.

I clutched at my mouth to hide my emotions at seeing what he wanted. The tackiest mug of all. Something was really wrong with him. The market, me, the mug. It just pointed towards a certain condition. Musing on his mental state, I felt the need for something like this too. Maybe simply to remember this surreal time with him and me on a Christmas market. I was getting sentimental. But I surely could make use of that in some good way. I sighed and went closer to him to say into his ear and he startled: “If you promise to behave on Christmas Eve I will buy one too.”

By now, I knew what kind of mood he was in, finally.  
The Christmas blues.  
The dreaded, almighty Christmas blues which didn’t shirk from seizing the strongest and most stable man, responsible for mass suicides and oceans of tears.  
A horrible disease.

His eyes went big and he gazed at me like a child who had just been told that the biggest candy cane would be his now. As his lips turned to smirk and he reached for a mug, I caught it and took another mug instead; one I could live with, at least. It was black with fine red lines around it.

“How posh,” he commented on my choice and kept smirking.

At least, he was smiling again. Usually, that didn't bode well, but tonight, I had been waiting for one of his smiles he was known for by everyone. Both mugs were wrapped up in paper and put into one bag, then I paid. 

“And now punch number three,” he cheered and went to the next drinking hut. 

Within a moment, so it seemed, his mood had changed and I could feel that familiar mischievousness returning. He did not pass it on to me, but I could feel it growing.  
After buying a mug and having my buying one too.  
I sucked in the air, shrugged to myself and joined him at the next bar.

Only when I took the punch, I realized that _I_ was carrying the bag with the mugs, like his servant. That man had a subtle way of manipulation, it was just breathtaking. By now, I suspected him having found out why I was doing all this shit for him and he was just taking advantage of it. We were like two men who tried to compete for the goblet of psycho games. But who cared? I’d have sat by the fire at home, reading boring paper and drinking whiskey, the stuff I always drank. I could do that tomorrow, still.  
I put the bag on the table he had made conquest of, right in front of his eyes, but he so didn’t care and started sipping his punch.  
Alright. Ready for round 2.

“I’ve been to this market before already,” I started out of the blue, “Years ago, with a friend of mine, Gloria. Every year, it’s just the same, the same old huts, the same kind of people, the same music, the same stuff.”

“I’ve never been here before.”

I took a deep breath as he said, just to rub it in: “So it isn’t the same.”  
Round 2, touché.

“No, it isn’t,” I mumbled and decided to shut up and drink my punch.

And like he sensed my growing annoyance, he turned towards me and looked me in the eye. Gloatingly.  
It made me question my decision of why I had chosen to stay there. What if this all was just faked and he was getting off on this all? But his anger and despair had been real. I needed to find out. So I tilted my head, narrowed my eyes and tried to sound as threatening as possible.

“Are you trying to fool me?”

He licked his lips and my eyes just caught his tongue sliding over them, taking lipstick along. Fucking lipstick.

“Me?” he said with raised eyebrows, “How should I?”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, coming to understand that it was plain pointless to ask him such questions.

Round 3, touché.

“You’re a big boy, you’d notice when someone’s fooling you, wouldn’t you,” he said benevolently, nudging my arm with his elbow a few times.  
Oh dear.  
Round 4 had not even started and I had lost already.

“Here, have another punch,” he said, disappeared and got back with another cup just a minute later. How he had managed to get it so quickly when about ten couples were queuing up was a mystery to me.

“You trying to keep me happy with alcohol?”

“No,” he said and moved a little closer.

Too close.  
I took one step back and glanced at his face, then I took the punch. He lit another cigarette and put his head on his hand as he blew the smoke into the crowd. Some people who got the whole load of it screwed up their noses and tried to fan it away. He grinned and gave them a wink. And in my growing tipsiness, I found that very funny.

“Aahaahaa,” he mused and his head slid from his chin; he took a step to the side and again, our bodies touched. However, this time, _he_ moved away. Maybe he had not meant it that way at all the first time and I was just over-interpreting things. And just considering that I was over-interpreting things and my imagination going rampant made me sigh and drink more punch.  
Round 5, lost.

“Give me one,” I growled.

“What?”

“Give me a fucking cigarette!” I snapped at him.

With a mouth open in fascination and lips slightly curled up to a smile, he took the packet and took one out.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since when do you care?” I imitated his voice and took it from his hand.

Touching it. Warm fingers, tender skin.  
Over-fucking-interpreting.

I took the lighter which he had put on the table and lighted it, then I took a drag. It was true; in fact, I didn’t smoke, never had. Just in very stressful situations which could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Not even when Gisele had died.  
Angrily, I blew out the smoke and hated myself for doing this as I felt lightheaded already, but I simply couldn’t drop it either. And next to me, the Joker’s head was resting on his hand again, a disgusting smile on his face.  
Round 6, lost.

I smoked till I felt my throat getting sore, having done that the last time one year ago. He had already finished his. I drank some more punch and just when I put the cup down, he snatched the cigarette from my fingers and continued smoking mine.  
There was lipstick on my cigarette now.  
Quickly, I stole it from him again and sucked at it for one last time.  
Lipstick on my lips.

I dropped it and stepped on it, then I casually ran my fingers through my hair and emptied the mug. How many of those had it been? Enough to get me to smirk at the thought of touching the same thing his lips had touched before.

“Are you enjoying yourself finally?” he said very casually but with so much snobbish arrogance in his voice that I knew that he was trying to continue his verbal abuse again.

“I’d just need one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss under the mistletoe,” I said, lifting my eyebrow suggestively, hoping to throw him finally.

I wanted to know whether he was doing those things on purpose and expecting me to react to them in the same way. Or whether I was just over-interpreting. And honestly, neither of those possibilities was pleasant to think of.

For a moment, he narrowed his eyes.  
But not with anger.  
Then he took the bag from the table and disappeared in the crowd. Well, whatever he’d have said, I would have scored. Round 7, at least. I just needed some alcohol to speak his language.

Grinning, I followed him without returning the mugs and finally found him in front of an old merry-go-round. When I glimpsed his face, I dropped my smile yet again.  
A child was looking at the flashing lights, watching the horses going up and down and listening to the unique sound of this old vehicle. I felt so moved by his authenticity that I stopped next to him in silence, watching it myself.  
A sad child which never had been allowed to go for a ride. Just a few bucks, but he had not been deemed worth even those.

I lowered my head and gazed at the pebbly ground. My life and his. Opposites. But in the end, we had come to feel the same; everyone would feel the same in the end. The joy, the sadness, the sorrow; it was the same for everyone. I reached into my pocket, took out the wallet and took 5 bucks from it, then I offered them to him. It took him a minute to notice it. He quickly glanced up at me and then down at it again. His cheeks went red and he pretended to scratch his earlobe, saying: “I’ve got my own money.”

I had not intended to win the next round, but I had. And I didn’t like it. So I left him, bought a ticket and slipped it into his hand. Two minutes later, I watched him climbing the horse with the crown and then waiting for the show to start. He was trying to hide his joy and the smile, but it burst through several times until the music went louder and the merry went round.

Watching him made me smile too. A grown man sitting on a wooden horse, clutching at the mane, his back bent, his eyes glistening with joy and the innocent smile of a kid.  
Over and over again, he flew past me and I meant to hear him hollering with joy once even. It was so much fun to watch him that I was tempted to buy me a ticket as well and half a minute later, I had succumbed to this idea and went to get us another two tickets. When the vehicle slowed down and finally stopped, I went around it to search for him. 

He was about to get down from the horse when I gripped his wrist and made him freeze. Grinning, I put the ticket into his hand, put the bag with the mugs on the floor next to his horse and left him to get on the one right next to him. He looked like not believing what he was seeing. The seat was so cold that I flinched at touching it, but it would get warm within a moment. And then, something happened which would accompany me in my mind for the rest of my life. He got off his horse, pulled at my arm and I complied and got down from mine too, then he went around me and got on my horse. He didn't look at me at all. His cheeks were assuming a slightly reddish shade which was all the more noticeable since his skin was so white. 

I looked at him for another moment, but he wouldn't turn his head. Had he done that and seen me, he probably would have quickly looked away again. This horrid man was just turning into an adorable gentleman in my presence.  
Clenching my teeth to keep myself from smiling, I got on his horse. The seat was pleasantly warm. And I couldn't help thinking of his butt just having been resting there before. I gripped the reins and waited for it to start. The other children climbed the horses too and it started moving then.

As soon as my horse went up, I dropped my reason and a big smile claimed my face. The cold wind hit my face, but I barely felt it as I was getting lost in childhood delights. When the carrousel was moving at its full speed, I looked at him and found him enjoying it just as much as me for a second time. He looked at me too and seeing him so totally taken up in this joyride fuelled my own enjoyment and I grinned back at him.  
For five minutes, the world around us stood still while we were riding wooden horses painted in blue and gold, hurdy-gurdy music filling up the air and occasionally, the sweet scent of candyfloss flying past us.  
I could not remember the last time I had felt so free and so happy.

We enjoyed the rest of the time on our own, each of us indulging in this special atmosphere until the horses slowed down and came to a stop, finally. As I got off mine, I noticed that he was out of breath too. I took the bag and left the carrousel to wait for him in front of it. As he lifted his leg to join the other on the other side of the horse, I glimpsed his crotch under the coat. Everything was hidden all neatly and the way it was supposed to be, but it made a wave of heat travel through my body when I saw that part of him.

How often had I had to deal with him as the Batman already and never, I had had eyes for that. But understandable, when all the time I had had to watch for his blows and knives and other dirty tricks and no time or mental capacity for such intimate thoughts at all. Anyway, I did not stare at people's crotches either _if_ I had the time or mental capacities. That had been just a lame excuse.

Of course, there was his dick under that black fabric. Pressed flat against his groin. Limp. What would it look like? As white as the rest of him, or with a tender touch of rose. How the foreskin would wrinkle around the glans. Would it lie rather on one side when he was naked, or perfectly in the middle on top of his balls. Rather small balls. Compact and firm.  
I watched black cotton brushing over his crotch as he approached me; his coat swirling around it as he walked. Only when he came closer and I could not hold on to that sight, I became aware of what I actually was doing and thinking.  
But well, a man was free to think of another man naked under his pants without going to hell, right? And though, no other man had ever inspired me to explore their bodies under their clothes.  
He stopped in front of me now and his smile slowly faded as he stared into my eyes. Yet again. Without looking away, he took the bag from me. Warm fingers, not grazing my skin but sliding over it. Involuntarily, I glanced at his hand, then up at his face again. A smile flashed across his face, then he turned around and disappeared again and I had to follow.

We passed a skating ground with many people skating there and again, I could not help those pictures which forced themselves on my mind. I saw myself in black sporty ice hockey skates performing a quick full stop right in front of him and a mist of ice hitting his legs.  
Antique black leather skates. He wasn't able to skate at all and was just trying to keep himself up on his legs and as I stopped so abruptly in front of, him he staggered and toppled over backwards, shrieking adorably. WHUMP and he was lying on his back and I bent down to help him up again. 

Someone bumped into me and the scenery dissolved.  
Here, there was just his coat-covered back. Some green was visible under the hat. I'd buy him a super tacky Christmas bonnet with reindeers on them. And some battery-fuelled flashing hearts on it. He turned around and smiled at me and I got distracted by those hearts above his eyes.  
He turned left and again, I had to leave this cosy world of wishfulness, following him into a shop. A coffee shop, this time. Without asking me whether I was up for that, he entered, hoping that I would follow.

He searched for a table and indeed, found one just in front of the huge window pane. It was steamed up and people could neither look inside, nor could we look outside. He sat down, put the bag on the floor next to him and looked up at me, inviting me to sit down too. I sighed and took off my coat and just as I did so, he did the same and got rid of his coat. Silently, I thanked him for keeping his hat on since it covered most of his green hair and I already felt so awkward about having some coffee there with the Joker.

I draped my coat over my chair and sat down, then I turned my head to check for the reactions of people. Some of them were staring at us and whispering things; there was no way he could hide his red lips and white skin so some might have noticed indeed. I pressed my lips together and quickly looked away, pretending to not notice them noticing. I was just going through hell with this man.  
Who got up now, yet hesitated and took out our wrapped mugs. He put them on the table and asked me: “You want your goodie in that one?”

I couldn't help the amused laugh, then I said: “No.”

He gave me a smirk and went to the barista to order something. In all honesty, I didn't care what. While he was gone, I wiped across the window pane to see through it.  
Hundreds of people passing, busy with shopping or feeling happy. What kind of horrible crime had I committed that I deserved to sit there with the Joker on this lovely Friday pre-Christmas evening. I sighed and just accepted it.  
When he came back with two mugs in his hands, perfidiously wiggling his crotch in such an explicit way that my eyes got stuck at it for just _too_ long than to pretend I had not noticed at all, my self-pity vanished and the window pane steamed up again from the heat my cheeks radiated. I still wasn't sure whether he was doing that on purpose or whether it was just his usual attitude.

I tried to cross my legs under the table and silence this annoying thing, but there wasn't enough space for that and so I clumsily searched for a comfortable pose, but I couldn't find any. Not anymore. He put one cup down in front of me, the other at the other side of the table, the receipt next to his cup and sat down.

“Hope you like it,” he said, reaching back into the pocket of his coat to get the packet of cigarettes, “Egg punch with coffee.”

I lifted my brows. Did he try to make me drunk?

“And yours?” I asked to hide my confusion.

“Lumumba.”

“Lum-what?”

“Hot choc with rum.”

He was trying to make both of us drunk. Well.  
I watched him sipping the steaming chocolate and putting his mug down. Lipstick on it again. I closed my eyes for a moment and then looked into his eyes. Dare in them. I pursed my lips to hide the grin from surfacing, then I took my cup and tried the what? Egg punch.  
There was so much alcohol in it that I barely tasted any eggs.

“Did you get an extra shot of alcohol, or what?”

“Why not?”

“Okay,” I said, put the cup down and leaned back, ready to talk turkey.

“What are you trying to do?”

He frowned and said: “Am I trying to do something?”

I darted him an annoyed look, then I turned my head to look outside of the window, but the steam kept me from seeing anything behind it. That much as for talking turkey. I turned my head to the left and watched some people leaving. Suddenly, I felt so awkward that I wanted to hide somewhere, but there was nowhere to hide. His presence unsettled me and I took the cup to hide behind it.

“So how are ya gonna spend Christmas?” he asked with a curious voice.

I turned my head again to face him, but looking at his face worsened my feelings of insecurity and I gazed at the table instead.

“Nothing special,” I admitted to see where honesty would get me with him, “Just Alfred and me.”

“How sad,” he said and put his head on his folded hands, smiling.

“It's not sad!” I snapped at him and instantly felt embarrassed at my sudden outburst of feelings.

I watched his grin growing and turned to staring at the table again. Honesty would just get me into further trouble. Fine. 

“And you?” I asked.

“Oh nothing special. A few bombs here, a few threats there, you know, the usual business.”

“I thought we had agreed on refraining from doing that this time?”

“Oh right, we have.”

I shook my head and darted him an angry glare.

“You are such a twisted asshole.”

His grin grew again and he said: “Thanks.”

I snorted with frustration and emptied the cup, but the punch was too hot and I burned my tongue. Oh the fuck, I didn't care. This evening was lost already so I could just turn to enjoying it a little and I got up to get me another one.

“For me too!” he called after me and I clenched my teeth, feeling so annoyed that I had to resist the urge to turn around and throw the mug against his stupid face.

I managed to calm down a little as I ordered the beverages. Grog, this time. Rum, sugar and water, to speed things up a little. I was in a mood where I started to long for excess. With or without him.  
I returned and slammed the glass against the table and a bit of grog splashed against the wood.

“Are we angry?” he asked me, grinning and watching me sitting down.

“No.”

“But?”

“Oh just shut the fuck up!” I snapped at him and sipped the grog.

He unfolded his hands and reached under the table.  
I saw him stroking his dick. Especially when he cleared his throat and added a little moan to it, I could not help thinking of his fingers tightly squeezing his piece.

“So,” I started off with the most bored and annoyed voice I was able to produce, “Are you done adjusting your dick and balls now?”

He grinned and said: “Yes.”

And his hand appeared on the table again. I glanced at it. And he didn't miss it.  
Previously in contact with his dick. Lipstick on the mug.  
I rubbed my eyes and leaned back again, giving up. If he had been out to seduce me he had managed now finally. Great. This evening was turning into real hell.

“Excuse me. Lumuma needs t'leave,” he said smiling and got up to head for the toilets.

As he got up, I saw him pulling down the zipper, taking his limp dick out to hold it and let it flow. I glanced up at him and found him searching for the room, still smiling while he gripped his dick to adjust it under his pants yet again. Oh goddarned asshole.  
Why did I actually think that way. Never, I had thought of such things when any business partner had left the table to have a piss, but with the most terrible man of town, I had to think of him squeezing his dick. No, I actually had to _watch_ him squeezing his dick. He left now and went towards the back of the shop.  
Bugger, this ass. 

He staggered and bumped into a table and wide-eyed, I watched him apologizing and smiling the dumbest smile I had ever seen. He was piss-drunk. I took a deep breath, deciding that it was _not_ his usual attitude.  
Sexual innuendos all over the place.  
I reached under the table to squeeze my semi-hard dick. What the fuck was he doing to me. He _wanted_ me to do it. The alcohol had made all reason retreat to some dark place and I couldn't keep myself from thinking of his crotch. I slammed my fist against the table, angry at myself and angry at him. It was pointless to continue this way.

He wouldn’t care. Not even remember if I was lucky.  
I took the receipt and a pen from my pocket, then I scribbled some words on it and put it into the pocket of his coat.  
Merry Christmas, whatever was going to happen.

I got up and followed him; though, I waited for a few moments after he had closed the door behind him and then I entered as well. He was standing by the urinal, ready to pee when I stepped behind him as silently as possible. He noticed the presence and was about to turn his head, but quickly enough to keep him from that, I grabbed his hand which was holding his dick and clutched at his shoulder with my other to keep him from leaving.

I flexed my fingers and made him grip his dick tightly, then I rammed my teeth into his shirt-covered neck, as hard as I dared to at first. He growled through his nose and his legs gave way as I bit that muscle too hard, but I let go and allowed him to gather himself for a moment while I said: “Told you we should’ve kissed under the mistletoe.”

Then I started masturbating him. He tried to keep me from doing so by gripping my hand and pulling at it, but I wouldn’t let go at all, now that I had plucked up all my courage and had fucked things up already. I could just bring it to an end as well.

“What the fuck are younnnghh”

I silenced him by biting the same spot again; harder this time and he almost sunk to his knees. He’d remember this Christmas for the rest of his life. Not one of those sad, lonely ones when he had to keep himself from cutting his wrists, both of them, to make sure, or picking a fight with some other poor idiot to distract himself from this soul-numbing pain. I’d give it to him and he could return home, licking his wounds and jerking off to them again, for all I cared.

His dick grew hard within a minute at my gentle but very passionate stimulation and I smiled, his flesh still between my teeth, feeling highly encouraged to continue. I felt proud that I was able to make him hard since I did not consider him gay, nor did I consider myself gay, but who cared about labels if there was some good fun involved.  
Bruce Wayne jerking the Joker off. That thought together with his stiffening dick made me feel my own erection press against my pants. Everything of this would stay here, inside these walls. Or just as long as no one entered.

I bit down hard again and drew a whimper from him, then I let go, took the broom from the corner and put it under the door handle so it couldn’t be opened anymore.  
When I faced him again, he was supporting himself against the wall with one arm, the other hand clutching at his sore spot on his neck, half of his face hidden by his biceps. But his eyes. They had such a dark look in them that I felt a shiver running down my spine. He rubbed his lips against his upper arm, cocked his head and darted me a daring glare.

Accepted.

I got back to him, grabbed his dick again, this time without his hand between me and him, and ripped his shirt open to bare some more skin. Two buttons fell on the floor.  
I bit his neck again, just next to the bruised spot. He gave a loud moan and rocked his hips so that his ass met my crotch. And again, I meant to get it. I kept his muscle between my teeth and reached down to open my pants and take out my dick. Since he was looking at the mirror to our left, I could see this mind-killing smirk and I bit down harder and made him drop it. I squeezed his dick again and mine now too. Where was this going to end? In regrets, shame and embarrassment. But not now.

Passionately, I pushed my dick against his ass and he groaned through his nose. And even if this all was part of his bigger plan, I would play along, so tired of holding back. I started masturbating him again and pulled down his pants to bare his ass. Pure white.  
All of this felt so weird to me, holding his dick and seeing his ass now. So new, so unfamiliar. So wrong.

To silence that voice in my head, I gripped my dick and pushed it between his ass cheeks and let go of his flesh, finally. He bent his head and kept supporting himself against the wall while he reached behind him, clutched at my hand and pulled at it to make me enter his ass. I let go of his dick, wetted my fingers and drew back to spread the spittle on my glans, then I gripped his glans and started moving again. A low and lusty growl encouraged me to cross the line. I pushed it in and he gasped and squirmed, but he stood it without resistance. 

“What do you want from me?” I whispered into his ear and stayed there, unable to look at his face now, feeling the need to hide behind him in this intimate situation.

“I want you to _fuck_ me,” he breathed and then waited patiently.

I moved closer to his ear and nudged his earlobe with my nose and by doing so, I pushed the hat from his head and his green, wavy hair showed up there.  
He was a whore. Simply a whore. And I a needy man who had not come for a month by now. Sad times.  
I fondled his ear some more with my nose, then I bit it and he gave a shriek. As he exhaled, I shoved it in and he whimpered and was about to collapse when I swiftly grabbed his shoulder and kept him up. He was bringing out the worst in me. And I let him, desperately needing some liberation too.

I heard him panting now and I bent my head to bite his neck again. I loved the feeling of his skin and flesh between my lips and I tried to get more skin between them to make him bleed. He shifted his weight and tried to escape my bruising bite, but I opened my mouth and let my jaw snap shut again.  
A cry, a drop of blood.  
Oh hell yes.  
Grinning, I moved my tongue and licked the blood, then I started fucking him. Brutally, egoistically, driven by mindless lust. As my pelvis hit his, I heard his dick slapping against the urinal and he whimpered since he was bumping into the ceramic edge of it every time I buried my dick in him. I wanted to destroy this body and I wanted to wreck this mind. So badly that he'd be forced to crawl back to his car and would flinch when he'd sit down on the seat.

I gave up my hypocrisy and moaned with pleasure as my dick disappeared in his hole again. I needed more of him, so I put my head on his shoulder, my chin right on his bleeding spot and kept his upper body locked in that way while I worked on his ass, forcefully penetrating it untilt the spittle was used up and I had to dry-fuck him. But I didn't care. Even if he had tried to get away from me now I would not have allowed him to leave. And that worried me a bit.  
But not now.  
I gripped his dick again and put my thumb on his glans. It was wet from pre-cum. What a twisted soul.

“You like that?” I panted into his ear and I watched him closing his eyes and smiling.

“Yeah,” he breathed back and his grin grew, “Take it from me, whatever you need.”

A few more thrusts and suddenly, I felt something snapping in my mind and my attempts to destroy his ass became a little half-hearted.  
What had he just said?

“What?” I asked to make sure I had heard what I had meant to hear.

“Just please yourself,” he repeated and kept smiling with closed eyes.

I blinked and stopped moving. When I did not continue or do anything else, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look for the cause of this interruption.  
My dick grew smaller and almost left his ass while my hand was still on his boner and my other resting on his hip. He frowned and turned around and my dick dropped down.

Confusion was written all over his face and silently, he asked me what was wrong. I gazed at his eyes, unable to think straight. Was this some kind of fucked up plan of his? Was he trying to make me fuck him just to mock me publicly? Here, on the toilet of a coffee shop?  
I licked my lips and tried to see through these eyes, but I could not find out what was going on behind them.

“Is something wrong?” he finally asked.

I couldn't reply anything. His eyebrows twitched and he looked as confused as I. He cocked his head and opened his mouth to say something, but no words left his lips.  
_All_ of this was wrong.  
Pursing my lips, I bent my head, took my dick and was about to put it back into my pants when he took my hand and kept me from it. I looked up again and found him silently begging me to _not_ do just _that_.

“I don't _need_ this,” I said with a voice which sounded like coming from a sulking child.

And just after having spoken them, I realized that I was lying and my cheeks went red. He bit down on his tongue and searched for words, intently staring at me.

“Well,” he started off, “But I do. If you don't want to please yourself please _me_. Or even better, let _me_ please _you_.”

And having that said, he got down on his knees and I had to take a step back to make way for him. He took my dick, opened his mouth and I could not resist. Just one second, I would have needed my sound mind to defend myself against this hot sight. But my mind was everything but sound anymore and so this moment passed and his lips closed around my glans. I sucked in the air, becoming aware of him just sucking my dick which had been in his ass right before. And he so didn't seem to mind.

Mesmerized, I watched his head moving forth and back as he tried to reanimate my limp piece. And just that sight made it pulse and throb with lust again. He was so skilled that I thought that he wasn't doing this for the first time at all. How he made sure his teeth wouldn't graze my glans, how he was holding my dick and even masturbating me along to his oral job and how tightly his lips were embracing my dick, sliding over the corona in such a pleasing way every time it slid in. It was mind-killing.

I closed my eyes and threw back my head, now me needing to support myself against the wall in front of me. Panting, I stood this tease for as long as I could, then I rocked my hips in the same rhythm to get more of him and he turned to deepthroating me when I was rock hard. Every time his muscles squeezed my tip so tightly, I moaned and tried to push it in even further. When I looked down, I found tears on his cheeks.  
Instead of wiping them away, I fucked his mouth even harder and made his head hit the urinal.

The sound woke me up.  
I opened my eyes and gazed down, finding him struggling to keep me where I was, so I drew back and gave him some time to recover, but he gripped my ass cheeks and pushed me back into his wet embrace. Whenever I fell the victim to pangs of conscience, he choked them and tried even harder to keep them away from me. I wasn't sure what his plan was anymore or if there was any at all.

I drew back a little though to offer him more space and he just turned to sucking me off again, now going for the final blow.  
Half a minute later, I could barely hold back anymore for a moment, I really considered coming in his mouth, but it felt too wrong. Giving a frustrated growl, I drew back and then let it flow. However, the next moment, my dick was in his mouth again and as I looked down, he closed his eyes and swallowed. This sight. I moaned through my nose and abandoned myself to my orgasm. My hand snuck up to his head and my fingers grabbed some strands of hair. It felt so silky.

He kept sucking me till I was done and then he drew back. I looked down and found him gazing up at me, asking me whether he had done it right. It was like mockery; like a professional asking for feedback. An amused snort escaped me and I took a step back to get out of his reach. After my orgasm, his presence felt even more intense to me and I badly needed a minute to recollect myself. I had just come in this face.  
Unbelievable.

He wiped the tears from his cheek and all of a sudden, I felt so sentimental that I swallowed hard and fought the urge to kneel down and kiss him.  
This poor soul. So desperate. That act was just turning into a sheer act of despair as I witnessed him trying to rearrange his mind right in front of me, cleaning his face and licking the cum from his lips.  
What had I done?

I licked my lips, feeling so troubled suddenly that I could not stand his presence any longer and I hurried to close my pants and storm out of the toilet. Behind me, the broom fell down on the floor. I ran to our table, took my coat, put it on, then I took my mug and left. With a head so full of thoughts that I felt a headache on the way, I made my way through the crowd and hurried back to my car, feeling so desperate that I was close to tears.  
Just what the fuck had I done.

____

I didn't expect you to stay. Nor did I expect you to say anything.  
Actually, I had not expected _anything_ from you.

What I had gotten though is more than I ever could have asked for. More than I ever could have dreamed of.

I don't know what got you to do that, and I won't ever ask. I don't need to know.  
I will remember it as something which happened in a different reality. An alternate reality.

I left this place in my thoughts and stored it there to return to it later when I would have enough time for it. Clusmily, I got up, cleared my throat, though, for who I didn't know. Maybe just for myself.  
I tried to squeeze my boner back into my pants, but it was impossible. Looking down didn't serve to help a bit either. My erection was peeking out between my shirt and pants. And if I chose to zip it up to the shaft, it would still be there. But then again, I'd only have to make my way to my coat.  
Let's give it a chance.

I pulled the zipper up as much as possible without pinching my skin, then I picked up my hat, lifted my head and threw it around to get the hair out of my face and took a deep breath. How bad could it be anyway.  
As self-confidently as possible, I opened the door and walked to the table at a processional pace, parading my considerable boner to them. And the volume of the chattering turned a littler lower as I strode past them. 

No one looked at my green hair anymore. Those who I left behind stopped talking. This was my Christmas gift to them; the sight of the Joker's boner. Proudly, I carried it to the table, the hat in my right hand, mocking them with it since I could have covered my erection with it. Casually and without any hurry, I picked up my coat and started dressing. I buttoned it up, put my hat on and then noticed the mug on the table. At least, he had taken his along. I put mine into the bag and went towards the door. The only sound which was heard in this room were my footsteps and the low tacky music.

The first part of me which left the coffee shop was my foot, followed by my dick. I headed for the taxis and got into one. On the backseat, I reached under my coat and stroked my dick to keep the erection up. His firm thighs on mine, his ass in my lap. He was masturbating me between his legs, his balls resting on the base of my shaft. He tickled me with his pubes. He touched me and fondled the inside of my thighs till I couldn't take it anymore and his hands together with his ass and thighs disappeared in the darkness in front of me.  
But he would come back anyway.

Back at home, I shed the coat, got out of the shirt and shoes and pants as well and went to the bedside table. I took out a dildo and lube, spread it on the silicone dick and then squatted down. In the meantime, my boner had only lost a little of its cargo and it was reloaded instantly when the tip of the dick touched my asshole. I squatted down some more and let a centimetre of it enter me. It had been ages since my last butt fuck. Another centimetre and it stung already. I gripped my dick and stroked it lazily for a minute, then I sat down on the dildo and got half of it in. My asshole was stretched to four centimetres and I would need to wait a little again.

He bent his head and humbly licked the tip of my dick. I shuddered when this image transformed into reality. His tongue circled my glans and teased the frenulum. He knew exactly where to touch me. After licking it, he rubbed his lower lip against it while his upper lip was resting on my tip. Slowly, he closed his mouth and his lip slid upwards, caressing my glans so gently that I had to open my mouth to breathe through it. His lips met at the urethral orifice which got invaded by his tongue now. The very tip of it went inside and I gasped and sat down fully on the dick. The ripples of that artificial dick stimulated my opening as they slid in and made me shudder.

I moved up a little again and had them stimulating the nerves right the other way down. A grin flashed over my face and I gripped my dick more tightly. As I started moving up and down, fucking my ass with the dildo, he turned to sucking me off. When I moved upwards, he took it in, when the dick got back into my ass, he let go of it again.  
I was locked in this position for a minute until my glans got more slippery and I adjusted the pace and moved even more quickly, already panting for release.  
He took me in deeply and I gasped and threw back my head, concentrating on keeping this up. Another minute and I felt it coming. With a stifled cry, I let it flow and then moaned along to the surges of orgasm. He swallowed it.  
It was the first time I jerked off to another man.

I came for as long as I could, then his touch faded until it was gone completely. Breathing hard and with my eyes still closes, I sat on the dick and buried my fingers in my hair. Just then, I rememered that he had done the same as I had sucked him off.  
I needed a minute to be ready to move again and carefully, I got up then. Lube and shit trickled down the dick and spilled on the floor. Still, there were a few stains visible from last time. I went to the bathroom, cleaned my ass and dick, then I cleaned and disinfected the dildo and put it back into the drawer.

Ignoring the mess on the floor, I went to the kitchen to prepare some tea. While the teabags were soaking in the water, I stared outside the window.  
It had started to snow. So heavily that the flakes seemed as big as my hand. I had to grin from ear to ear. So we had let it snow.  
I opened the window to listen to the silence of this surreal event. A thin white layer of snow was already covering the street and the pavement. Silent white. 

I stared outside, looking at the sky and the lights of the rooms at the other side of the street and their Christmas decorations until the tea was ready, then I went to get my new mug. Yet, when unwrapping it, I saw black and red. When the paper was fully gone, I held it in my hand to gaze at it. It was a black mug with thin red lines. The Batmug, actually.  
I burst into loud and hearty laughter, so loud that I had to hold my belly with my other hand while I laughed at the mug. Tears streamed down my face already when I had become so short of air that I simply couldn't go on anymore without suffering from permanent damage.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I went back to the kitchen, gave it a wash and inaugurated it with the tea, then I poured a generous amount of rum into it, added sugar, stirred and went to the couch and sat down. After a few seconds, I got up again though to get the packet of cigarettes from my coat. I grabbed the packet, but I hesitated for a moment, feeling something else. I took both things out and saw that it was a small slip of paper. The receipt from the coffee shop; one lumumba, extra shot aclohol, one egg punch, extra shot coffee, extra shot advocaat.  
I lifted my eyebrow and turned it over. Something was written on it.

“Merry Christmas.  
\- an old friend”

I swallowed when I read it. Instantly, I relaxed my fingers so that I wouldn't crumble the slip of paper and slowly and sloemnly, I carried it to the table where I put it down in front of me.  
He must have written it down and put it into my pocket when I had gone to the toilet.  
I took a cigarette out of the packet and lit it. This receipt would be my sacrament.  
Next to it, there was my rum tea. Or tea rum, in that case. In his mug.  
He'd unwrap his and see that it was mine. The ugliest I could have found.  
And now it was the most beautiful one. 

I smiled with bliss and leaned back, closing my eyes to savour this uncommon feeling. Never, I would have come up with the idea that he might find me sexy enough to do such a thing with me. It was true that I wiggled my ass through the world as daringly as possible to shock people and make them feel embarrassed, but I had never actually expected any of those to react with sexual advances to my body show in return. I had thought of this body as an ugly shell, deformed and disfigured after that chemical accident and with delight, I flaunted myself in front of people, loving it when they had to avert their gaze, feeling so embarrassed.

How could anyone love this or find this attractive.  
So I had thought.  
I should have gotten suspicious already when he had stared at the lipstick leftovers on the mug. At that moment, I had taken it for exactly this kind of consternation I was eager to inspire, but he had already fallen for me by then. Unbelievable. Had someone told me that the Batman, or his day equivalent, Bruce Wayne, would come to think of me in such terms, up to the point when he'd even take my dick in his hand, _deliberately_ , I'd have died laughing.

That man was so straight that a ruler would look crooked next to him.  
What an honour to be the first man in his life who had turned his head. I didn't care that both of us were men, it was rather a kind of philosophical thrill which made my heart jump with joy when I thought of him having feelings for me.  
My heart was as warm as my tea rum now and palpitating with excitement and something else.

One day ago, I had felt so devastated and desperate and sitting on that bench, waiting for him to come, had been utter hell since I had feared that he'd leave the very moment he'd see who was actually waiting for him. But fortune favours the brave. The day had ended in a way which I never would have dreamt of.  
Why I had chosen to ask _him_ out was a mystery to me, but honestly, as I had tried to explain it to him, whom else should I have asked. No one I knew was of sound enough mind to do such a thing with me and maybe I had tried to appeal to his compassion since I knew that the heart of the Bat was a huge fluffy thing which would throw itself into any kind of danger to just save another person.

And I had been right. He had agreed on doing this together with me, most likely out of compassion. Again, those thoughts made me feel even more cherished and heat gathered in my cheeks.  
This Christmas was going to be very different from all the previous ones. I'd sit at home, thinking of him sitting there too and watching TV after having had some carp with potatoes.  
Maybe I was going to ask him out on the 24th.

The next day in the evening, I went to a flower shop and bought a small mitstletoe which I put into a box. On a simple white piece of paper, I wrote: 

“Merry Christmas.  
Old friend.”

After getting it posted, I went back to my flat. And the feeling which accompanied me was a new one. I felt so warm in my heart that I saw nothing but the snow flakes on my way back. And the moon. It was rather big tonight. When I looked at it, snow flakes fell on my face. I had never cared much about snow, thinking it just some frozen water, but something had opened up inside me. Something which could perceive this, finally. Something very skilled which had been sleeping inside me.

The snow melted and I felt tiny puddles of water on my face.  
There was so much to feel in this world, and I had gone without it until now. It was a shame.  
I honoured this moment of realization with a beatific smile, then I bent my head and continued walking.  
Back at my flat, I lit four candles and sat down on the couch to have some hot chocolate in my favourite mug. 

He'd surely keep his. I saw no way he would throw it away. At worst, it would disappear in the kitchen cupboard; at best, it would turn into his morning coffee cup.  
I switched on the TV, a very very rare occasion, and searched for something tacky which would fit his mug. Surely, he was the kind of man who'd secretly indulge in those wobby-sobby heartbreaker movies. When I found a man in a black suit, longer blond hair and sunglasses performing one of those earsplitting Christmas carols, I stopped zapping. There was a castle in the background and Christmas trees with snow on them. Everything was made of papier-mâché or that sort and fairy lights were everywhere. It looked like a candy land at winter time. So horribly tacky that I came to like it and I kept watching.

In the distance, Bruce sat by the fire, a family Christmas show with the title “The Advent show of the 100.000 lights” on TV and a mug on the table.  
He thought of him sitting there and watching the same shit. Never in hell the Joker would, but he loved pretending that he did. And it made him smile. Maybe he'd love it if he just came to see it. This was his thing, that cheesy, corny stuff. At least, there was enough fake snow, fairy lights and dazzling colours for him to possibly enjoy that.

The entire day, he had tried to push such thoughts away in his mind, trying to forget what had happened but whenever he had had a spare moment, he came back to his mind and he could feel his hard dick in his hand. He wasn't used to such thoughts, but they gave him such a warm feeling that he could not but return to them whenever possible. He craved those feelings. For such a long time, he had not even felt a whiff of this heavenly peace and now that he got the whole load of it he could not let go of it at all just because that man was the Joker. They felt too authentic than to choke them simply because the object of love was not entirely what he would have imagined it to be. He was so starved that he'd accept just anything giving him those feelings.

He crossed his legs and took a sip from the mug. Alfed had, upon his request, prepared some egg punch. And he was just decorating the house, upon his request as well. Never before, he had asked him to put those lights on the trees in the garden or to search for those old candleholders since he did not want Christmas to be in his house at all. All that brightness around him had only served to make him feel even sadder and emptier inside. There had never been anyone to share it with; even his girlfriends had always chosen to celebrate Christmas with their families instead of celebrating with him, so he had always been alone in his house.

This time, however, he felt like needing lights around him. His heart was beaming with joy and so should the house, even if he was to spend Christmas alone again with his butler. He was wondering by now how he would spend Christmas this time since he had promised to abstain from getting up to nonsense. If he was being honest, he wished to see him again, just to keep this lovely feeling alive.

Alfred put a candle holder on the table in front of him and he glimpsed at his Master's face and at seeing him smiling so dumbly at the TV set, he faintly shook his head and wondered what had pushed him into this horrible state. True, it could be worse, but this drippy slush was annoying the hell out of him, especially this man in the Reindeer costume who was singing so terribly off-key. And his Master kept staring at it with this brainless smile. He sighed and lit the candles on the holder, then he turned to decorating the mantelpiece.

Bruce emptied the cup and got up to get him some more. He had fallen for the charm of sentimentality and romance; he would not have put it that way, but any objective observer definitely would have laughed and told him that he was being such a cute and naïve man for denying this.  
As he refilled the cup, he thought of him again. He was hoping for him to write another note to him so badly, hoping that he would come back and seek his company again. As scared as he had been when leaving the toilet, he was of the opinion that he had done a good thing, accompanying him to the market and letting him have it his way in the end.

Even if they were only to have punch at that coffee shop again or some other, he'd be thrilled to meet him again. Since he had been right. In that man's world, he could have chosen between Two-Face or Chasmin, whoever that was, and he in his world could have chosen between Livingston and Mira, the most intelligent ones out of his small circle of friends, but still unsuited; definitely unable to give him this kind of feeling, that much he could tell.  
It wasn't just the company of _someone_ ; it was the company of someone with whom he could talk about more than just about Christmas gifts and latest projects.

He sipped some punch, then he leaned back against the kitchen counter.  
Was he suffering from a romantic fit? Even worse, mixed with sentimentality? Or just missing some interhuman closeness. No, that sounded too detached. He had to admit that he had caught a disease; a horrible one. The Christmas flu.  
He pursed his lips and went back to the living room where Alfred had lit a candle in an aroma lamp and the scent of cinnamon was making the air heavy and sweet. A man dressed as an angel was performing Silent Night. He sat down and watched this fairy singing.

Maybe it wasn't a disease.  
Dreaded, true, but that didn't turn it into a disease per se. A tough mood which demanded special sacrifices, but the reward would be worth it.  
He decided to pluck up his courage to open up to these feelings and accept them as given. They made his heart so wide, yet, he was afraid of exposing himself to ridicule. Especially with that man. But then again, it seemed like he was suffering from the same strange fit, considering his desperate attempt at meeting him. Maybe they were a good match for Christmas.  
Christmas only.

Or, who knew.

_______


	2. Let it grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After this heart-warming experience, the Joker’s become addicted to that feeling and searches for a way how to keep it alive. After plucking up his courage, he asks Bruce out another time and just again, Bruce can’t resist the charm of that man and agrees on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I took less time to proof-read it this time, just in order to post it IN time, phlease excuse any pozential typors.

**Let it grow**

Four days passed and it was only five more till Christmas. Every day, I woke up with him on my mind and on the fourth day, I felt the urge to see him in person again. At the same time, I wondered how this was going to end. Since doubts and fears, those very very old ones surfaced again. What if he had only found this appealing for its forbidden aspect. Or what if when he came to know me some more, he'd realize that it was not what he wanted at all. Or if he was just using me as a stopgag. I saw us kissing and at the same time, I saw him smiling, turning around and walking off. Those possibilities made it hard for me to keep enjoying this warm feeling and with every day, it had assumed a darker colour until today, it was merely a distant echo accompanied with sorrow.

However, if I didn't dare to find out about his true feelings I'd be left in that limbo of doubts and hopes, maybe false doubts and realistic hopes or maybe reasonable doubts and false hopes. That state was even worse than dreading the end, so I wrote another note, got dressed exactly the same way as for our meeting, which had turned into a date, actually, and applied some nude lipstick, just to make sure in case anyone would see me in the car, driving up to Wayne Manor. I didn't want to cause him any trouble at all, fearing that he'd ditch me when he would realize that this thing between me and him was simply impossible.

With the hat hiding my hair and my lips painted in nude, I drove to his house to drop the envelop at his letterbox. Just when I had put it there, the door was opened and I startled. It was just a second, but a million thoughts rushed through my head. The butler would see me and ask me what the fuck I was doing there. He'd carry a gun and riddle my ass with lead shot pellets. He'd call for his Master who would come to the door and our eyes would meet and my cheeks would flush and his too, remembering, and he'd have to answer awkward questions from his butler and never meet me again, thus. Or the butler would call for his Master and he'd come, see me and just close the door without any further word. Feeling too embarrassed about what had happened than to continue.

The door was opened and Bruce Wayne was looking down on me as I was standing on the last step. Our eyes met and my cheeks went red. As predicted.  
One moment later, his too.  
I licked my lips in embarrassment and kept gazing at him.

“Saw you on the cameras,” he explained and leaned against the doorframe.

“Shouldn't you be working?” I said, unable to come up with anything wittier than this banal question.

“Friday,” he said and moved his upper lip under his lower one to wet it, then he continued, “I...”

And stopped.  
I watched him thinking hard. Definitely, he was not angry at me for showing up at his place at all.

“Master Bruce?” I heard it combing from the belly of Wayne Manor and my eyes went wide.

“The postman, Alfred! Just a different one than usually!” he shouted, turning his head away from me while keeping his eyes glued to me.

Then he smiled at me. I felt so confused that I could not return the smile and silently beheld that beauty.  
To hell with it, even if he chose to end it before Christmas already, I'd be left with beautiful memories. Silently, I stared back at him until his smile grew and he cleared his throat.

“What is it?” he asked me, still smiling.

I sucked in the air and bent my head a little to hide my eyes from him. I felt so nervous that I couldn't think straight. Actually, I had planned to drop the letter there and have him opening it in his bureau and reading it there and then deciding what to do, but the spirits of fate had made me being forced to explain it to him now.  
Impossible.  
I felt a lump in my throat. As I kept staring at the ground, trying to think up just a way how to start, he took the few steps down towards me and my head shot up and I swallowed involuntarily. The closer he came, the more insecure I felt until there was nothing left of me but a puddle of black goo.  
Before he could kiss me, I took a step back and forced myself to speak, otherwise I saw a catastrophe happening right there.

“I wanted,” I started off and realized that it had not been the right way to start it.

“I had-”

A man was mischievously smiling at me one metre in front of me. Dressed in a dark blue dressing gown with matching slippers, goose bumps on his naked legs.  
Not helping at all.

“Tomorrow at the market?” I finally managed to say and cursed right after saying it for sounding like a jerk.

His smile faded and I faced a horrible moment of fear. And it got even worse when he looked at me with piercing eyes. I expected him to tell me to fuck off now. And never come again. I felt so painfully nervous and afraid that I dropped my gaze for a second just to lift my head and search for his eyes again, trying to relieve myself of this tension, but it didn't work since I still found him staring at me with eyes which didn't tell me _anything_ about his real thoughts. Maybe he was just making up his mind right there, deciding whether he wanted to go on with this or end it.

“It's okay,” I said with a sad voice which I couldn't help at all and turned around.

I would end it before he could. I knew that I wouldn't be able to cope with his rejection and I tried to preempt him to keep myself from hearing an answer, like “Sorry, we won't meet again.” Or “If you ever dare to seek me out I will-”

“8pm?”

I stopped on my way back to my car and turned around. I had been wrong. That had not been anger or annoyance; that had only been my sick mind. Maybe he had been struggling with himself, trying to pull himself out of this all and failing. Or just being too afraid than to answer me.  
I felt like running towards him and kissing him, but I pulled myself together and smiled instead, saying: “8pm.”

Then I turned around and went to my car, forcing myself to leave him behind like that, otherwise I really would have brought trouble upon him when his butler would come to check on this new postman and see that two men were kissing and no letters or mailboxes anywhere in sight.  
With a mind so high in the clouds that I didn't even remember how to start my car for a second, I drove back, a huge smile on my face.  
I spent the entire day thinking of what I would wear and the next day, I drove to town to get me a new lipstick. Apparently, he liked it and I wanted to surprise him with a new colour. Mulberry.  
And while I was at the make-up store, I also looked for some powder and eyeshade.

Last time, people had recognized me; I had noticed them doing so when we had entered the coffee shop and I did not want them to believe that Bruce Wayne was associating with the Joker, even less on amicable terms. I'd wear make-up for him. The last time I had considered doing that had been years ago, right after the accident, but I had given that up since I simply had better things to do than getting up in the morning and spending an hour in front of the mirror to hide who I just had to be from then on.  
But for him, I would hide.

In the afternoon, I applied the make-up and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt so much more confident.  
A normal man. With mulberry lipstick. And green hair though, but I'd wear the hat again. I smiled and went to get my clothes. This time, I had decided for a black shirt and a jacket since I had felt cold the last time I had met him, wearing only a shirt under the coat. Winter wasn't my time at all; I was prone to freezing. I added a black scarf and spent five minutes trying out several ways to wrap it around my neck, looking for the sexiest way possible. And while I did so, my dick woke up.

Realizing that made me clutch at my scarf-covered neck. I looked at myself in the mirror of my cupboard and watched a bulge growing.  
I had never actually found him sexy. Or attractive. Or anything related to that. Just a random guy. Yet, apparently, what had happened before I had gone to the toilet had changed my mind without noticing. What some casual conversation could do.  
I brushed over my dick and caught myself hoping that I'd be allowed to use it in his presence again. Or maybe I was demanding too much. I wouldn't care, I'd jerk off in front of his eyes if he didn't want to interact with me; I'd suck him off and come at home again and I'd let him fuck me if he wanted that.  
Just something, please.

When my body complained about being trapped in pants which had become too tight, I took a step back from the mirror and also in my mind, not believing how mushy this thing got me.  
_“Told you we should've kissed under the mistletoe.”_

I slammed the cupboard shut and took off the pants, then I made myself some tea rum to get myself into the right mood for this all since I felt fear rising again. Surely, I'd fuck things up and say something stupid or wrong, even, putting him off. Or he'd laugh at the make-up. And all my confidence was smothered again.  
I spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch in a black shirt, sipping tea and having some Christmas stuff on TV until it was 7pm. During the last hour, I had glanced at the clock about every ten minutes, dreading the moment when it would show 7pm since this was the time I had set for leaving.

Sighing, I forced myself to get up and dressed properly, leaving the mug on the table. When I'd return, I'd see it, whatever would happen now.  
My hands were getting cold already while I drove to the market since I felt so nervous. The last time I had had a date, and I was convinced that this was to be called a “date”, had been years ago. And it had not even been me asking for it back then.  
I parked the car in a public car garage close to the market and went to the bench where I had been sitting last time too. Half past 7. I sat down and got up after five minutes because I was so fidgety that I couldn't sit still for a minute. This time, I didn't feel cold, I had even started to sweat by now as I was observing the street and pavement for any sign of him.

Five minutes later, a taxi stopped a few metres away and a man got out of it. He was wearing an opera coat which he had left open so I could see his black jacket and a black scarf draped around his neck in a way which made me glimpse his white shirt even. That look gave me such a thrilling feeling that the sweat stains under my arms grew instantly.  
He had taken a taxi. Did that mean that he was taking something into consideration I never would have dreamt of? That he would come...  
Over-interpreting.

I put my hands into my pockets just to take them out again, just behaving like an idiot. He came walking towards me now and my excitement rose to 100% and my neck twitched. He was standing in front of me now, looking at me. And the first thing he said made me understand that whatever plans I would have come up with for tonight would have been for the birds.

“Are you wearing make-up?”

That bold question made me blush yet again, but I caught myself and narrowed my eyes, saying: “Yes, so?”

“Why?”

I felt so annoyed that I couldn't hold back; he was turning my attempt to spare him embarrassment into ridicule.

“Well, to keep people from thinking that Bruce Wayne just fucks the Joker, right?” I said in a loud voice and slammed my hands into my pockets.

A nasty smile spread right in front of me and he said: “Just wipe that off.”

As I kept staring at him in anger, his look turned softer and he said with a very low voice, so low that I almost didn't hear it, “I like your natural look.”

Instantly, the anger died and I felt touched at a spot where I had never been touched before.

“What, those owl eyes and the corpse-like skin?” I whispered.

He blinked and his expression changed again. I meant to see sorrow in his eyes. Like how could I speak of this beauty in such horrid terms.

“Yes,” he whispered, not daring to speak louder.

He gazed at me for another moment, then he took out a handkerchief and started cleaning my face. He had to use some violence to wipe the eyeshade and powder off my face, but I let him. He even wetted the handkerchief with his spittle and then wiped over my eyelids. Yet, he refrained from removing the lipstick and I was tempted to smile. When he seemed satisfied, he put the handkerchief back into his pocket and looked at me.  
For a very long time. And I could see many thoughts circling around his soul behind these eyes.

“What,” I finally asked to make him share them since I felt so insecure, fearing that he'd decide that it had been better with the make-up though.

“No one ever let me do that,” he said with a toneless voice.

“What.”

He gave a short, low laugh and said: “No woman ever let me clean her face like that.”

“I don't think it's got something to do with being female or male,” I replied a little sourly, not getting his real intention at all right then.

He gazed at me for another moment, then this adorable smile claimed his face again and he said: “Punch?”

And I said Yes.  
Again, we joined the masses and I couldn't help that warm feeling from growing. All that music, that noise and the scents, it was connected with him and what had happened.  
He gripped my arm and I turned around.

“How about chestnuts?”

I looked to the right, then to the left and found a chestnuts and chips stall there. Why not.

“Okay.”

He let go of my arm and went towards it and I looked to the right again since something had caught my eye. I told him that I'd be just over there meanwhile and crossed the street. It was a snow globe booth. Shamelessly, I came to indulge in sweet thoughts until I felt him behind me, or to be precise, his front against my back.

“Snow globes, eh?” I heard it close to my ear.

Abruptly, I was kicked out of my sentimentality and felt ashamed for having gotten carried away like that. In front of a snow globes shop. I cleared my throat and turned around, without taking a step back and so our fronts came to touch. My eyes moved up to look into his. That intense stare made me feel insecure and I looked down to see whether he had gotten our chestnuts. Chips and chestnuts. He offered the nuts to me and then took a roast potato to eat it, but it was so hot that he gasped, burning his tongue. I had burnt mine too at the coffee shop.

He turned around and went off and I followed. To a bench, where he sat down to have his potatoes and I did the same since I could not eat my chestnuts walking. He took another handkerchief from his pocket and put it in my lap so I could put the waste there. Silently, I had three of them until he started talking.

“I wasn't sure you'd want to meet again.”

No prologue, no introduction, just straight to the point.

“I wasn't either,” I replied without looking at him.

“Why?”

That made me look up. Curiosity in his eyes. He had asked a question which made me feel uncomfortable, but I could not think of not answering him. I looked away again and took another chestnut to peel it off. Maybe that was the chance I had been waiting for, the chance to get to know his motivations. I put the nut into my mouth and chewed half-heartedly, deciding to make it sound as horrible as possible to see what he really thought of me.

“Because why should you. There are what, over 8 million citizens in Gotham and you should just wish to meet the craziest of them again?”

I gave a sarcastic laugh, faking disillusionment, “You've surely had better dates than that one. And better fucks. I don't see anything desirable I could possibly give you.”

“But I do.”

“Like?” I asked and looked at him.

He looked so serious and even somewhat hurt that I regretted having started that way. As I had feared, I'd fuck things up. When my insecurity would take over and I was to open my mouth to speak, I'd ruin everything. If there was to be ruined anything at all. I felt so low suddenly that I could not hide it from showing in my eyes, coming to believe what I had just said.  
Just when he wouldn't open _his_ mouth, I felt even worse, believing that he was desperately searching for some good but phony words to comfort me. I got my lower lip under my teeth and let go of it again, then I looked away.

How could I have ever hoped for this to turn out well. I was special waste, not worth it. I should have stayed in the chemicals back then to do everyone a favour, me included.  
He put the potatoes down and rubbed his eyes. Well, no need to search for any words, I knew anyway that he tried to get out of this in a roundabout way and the longer he kept silent, the more convinced I was of this. I sniffed back some snot and glanced at him though. He was staring at the floor. I closed my eyes and smiled a desperate smile, fighting the urge to get up and leave.

“When I came there,” he started with a constrained voice, “I expected someone else. Anyone else but you. I was about to leave, but I saw which kind of mood you were in so I stayed. Even though you are the worst asshole I ever got to know, I couldn't ignore that look in your eyes.”

I bit down on my tongue, waiting for his next words. Eagerly, desperately.

“I know that look. And I know what helps then.”

His huge fluffy bat heart.

“I wasn't sure whether I was the right one to help, but apparently, I was able to.”

He looked up and at me.

“I loved it when we took the carrousel ride,” he admitted and looked away again, “I loved it when we had punch and coffee. I realized that I had been in the same mood, but I only noticed when it slowly came to fade. It has been accompanying me for months and it has become normal for me, so normal that anything else is just confusing me by now.”

In my lap, the chestnuts grew cold.

“I don't know what happened. Really,” he added and searched for my eyes again and I saw this screaming helplessness and fear. But I couldn't help him since I felt the same. I moved my eyes to the side, thinking of something though. If he was being so honest and exposing his soul to me I'd have to return the favour and help him.

“Maybe it doesn't need to be explained. I don't care. I simply thought that it was a one-time thing.”

“You want it to be a one-time thing?”

I stared into his eyes, hard. Was he really asking _me_ what I wanted or was hoping for? Was his heart so huge that he'd just get up and leave if I told him that I wanted that, comforting himself with having saved me from suicide and that was enough to keep him happy?

“No,” I whispered.

His look didn't change, but I saw that he was forcing himself to not show his feelings. Still watching me intently, he moved closer and my heart started pounding. No was he really going to- My neck twitched again and I drew back a little, fearing that if he really did that I'd explode. And all this awkwardness would have been for nothing as black bits of fabric would be spread all over the floor and a large mouth with mulberry lipstick left lying on the bench between chestnuts and shells, a black scarf hanging from the backrest and fuming black leather shoes in front of the bench.

He put his hand on the back of my head and forced me to stay where I was, then he pressed his lips against mine. The bout of emotions made me try to draw back again, but he kept me there, gently wrapping up my lips with his and I froze, overwhelmed by that sensation. While he had his eyes closed I couldn't close mine and so I watched him turned his head and kissing me from the other side. He fondled my lips so gently that it made the ice in my mind melt and I kissed back, finally. And our lips met the way they were supposed to, touching each other so respectfully that I gave up all thoughts and abandoned myself to this one moment. At some point, I couldn't hold still anymore and had to feel him, so I lifted my hands and while I cupped his cheek with one, I wound the other around his neck, pressing against his head the way he was doing it with me.  
I didn't want to let go anymore at all and neither did he.

And though, it had to be, eventually. He was the first to draw back, but only a little, so our eyes were still so close.

“Told you we should've kissed under the mistletoe,” he breathed against my lips and I was tempted to look up.

Indeed, there was a huge, no, an immense mistletoe hanging in that tree above us. No way it could have grown there all by itself. I frowned and drew back a little to look where we were sitting anyway and just then, I noticed the sheet metal sign on the backrest of this bench, saying: “Kissin' Corner”.

With big eyes, I looked at him, knowing now that he had sat down there on purpose. He grinned, closed his eyes and moved in again. He ravaged my lips, passionately this time, greedily, not holding back at all and I let my lust flow freely and kissed back as hard as I needed to. Until I could not contain myself any longer and grabbed his crotch. The gasp he released into my mouth made my heart jump with joy and I gripped it a little tighter, making him leave our lips' embrace and gaze at me, panting.

“Not here,” he breathed, took my hand and moved it away and then got up, leaving the potatoes on the bench. He headed left and entered the adjoining park. I followed him, grinning with anticipation.  
The trees were decorated with big heart-shaped lampions gleaming in a bright red and I felt my inside melting as I saw them. He went down the path and then turned left till he stopped at a bench. The park was illuminated by those lampions and some street lights but this bench was completely in the dark, or as dark as it could be. He sat down and waited for me to sit down too.  
Silently, I sat down and snuck my hand under his coat to search for his crotch. In case someone was passing us, he wouldn't notice at all.

He opened his coat and his pants to let me in and when my cold hand touched his belly, he flinched. I let it rest there for a minute to warm it, then I wormed my way past the waistband of his boxers and grabbed his dick. So full, so tight in my hand, it made me smirk. I sighed with lust and started stroking him, as much as those pants permitted me to until he started panting. He wasn't looking at me at all, but he kept staring into the darkness in front of us until he swiftly pulled my hand away and hissed: “Someone's coming!”

And obeying his silent command to stop, I froze and waited till the couple had passed us, then I got up and down between his legs, took his dick out of the pants and bent down to suck him off. No one would ruin this moment, _no one_.  
When I took him in, he growled through his nose. It made me smile how he tried to keep silent and failed though. I closed my lips as tightly around his glans as possible, then I let them slide over the corona, knowing how to please a man. It was so easy since I knew from myself what would serve to thrill me. I did that a few times until he gave me another low but long moan. He clutched at his mouth to keep himself from expressing his pleasure so openly and instead kept moaning through his nose. Funny how he had come to do it in public yet again.

I really loved taking him in, feeling his most private part in my mouth and I let him feel that. Gripping his dick tightly, I worked on his tip some more, then I swallowed him just like I had done it the first time. He jerked when my nose touched his pubes and I heard another gasp above me. It was so pleasing to hear it since it let me know how much pleasure I was able to give him. Smiling around his dick, I took him in again and he shifted on the bench and tensed up his thighs. Suddenly, he jerked and pushed his dick in even more and I choked on it. Coughing through my nose, I tried to keep sucking him off, but he pulled my head up by my hair then, hissing again: “Someone's coming!”

“Oh f-huck this,” I coughed and got up to sit down on the bench like a good man.

Still coughing, I watched a group of people chatting and laughing passing us and when they were just a few metres away, I got up and unzipped my pants. He got up too and then I felt a hand on my back pressing me down until I was leaning on the backrest of the bench with my lower arms. It was the sexiest thing someone had ever done to me. Feeling so pleasantly put into place, I laughed and hollowed my back to stick my ass up into the air, presenting it to him like a needy baboon.  
He slapped my ass twice and the slap was heard all over the place. It left me grinning and waiting for more.

And I got more. Without stretching me, he squeezed his glans in and I hissed, short of breath. As he kept pushing, I moved forward a little to ease the pressure and show him that I'd need just another minute to be ready to take him in, but he ignored my attempt at escaping this rape and knelt down on the bench. It was pointless. A quick shove and his dick was inside. I gripped the metal edge of the bench tightly and tried to keep my mouth shut, but I couldn't help the pained gasp.

It got worse when he moved. In and out, teasing my painfully stretched hole with his whole dick and making sure that my muscles stimulated his corona in the same way as I had done it with my lips. Thinking of him enjoying this helped me finally and I relaxed a little. He felt that and moved a little faster, fucking me like a man who had gone without fucks for a year while I had had his dick in my ass just a few days ago actually. It made me chuckle and he slapped my ass again to punish me. I came to like that.

To tease him some more, I clenched my ass and when he drew back, I squeezed him out of it. He growled and pushed it back in and fucked me even more violently until the entire bench was quaking under us. Grinning wickedly, I straightened my back while pressing my hands against the backrest and he fucked my body against it. Though, he had to adjust himself too and got closer to me and the next thrust was catastrophic.  
The bench fell over together with us. My body hit the ground and just a moment later, his body fell on mine. I flinched when I felt ice on my dick; the ground was frozen and it was so uncomfortable that I tried to push myself away from it, but he had not recollected himself yet and was still lying on top of me.

“Darn, get off me!” I yelled, feeling my breath being taken away from this bone-numbing coldness.

Above my head, I heard him snickering, then he pressed a hand against my head, pushing my face into the ground too to push himself up. His other hand snuck under my body and lifted my groin and he just continued fucking me on the ground. Hissing, I turned my head to the side and bucked, but he kept me down and fucked me as violently as before.

A dark look claimed my eyes and I grinned again.  
Romance was overrated. This was just _as_ good.  
I bit down on my lower lip and reached down to masturbate along. Unfortunately, after a few good strokes, he froze and panted: “Hold on, someone's coming!”

I growled with frustration, but he bent down and pressed his hand against my mouth.  
I felt like an idiot, lying on frozen ground, my mouth shut by him, not allowed to move or do anything and waiting until he would tell me to continue. Behind me, I heard footsteps and for a second, I was tempted to complain loudly to draw their attention to us, but then again, he would not approve of that. Although the sound had already died away in the darkness, he still kept me gagged in that way, but I threw my head around to free my mouth and propped myself up on my forearms.

“Damnit, they’re long gone!” I said and earned myself another slap.

“Don’t be so impatient,” he replied, drew back and pushed his dick in so forcefully that I fell down again and my nose grinded against the ground.

Without waiting for me to rearrange myself, he continued fucking me and it didn't take us long and I heard him breathing: “I'm coming”

“Wait a second,” I breathed and while I said it I felt it coming too.

He could make me come with just some words. After a few moments, I clenched my ass and he cried out. His thrusts became even more forceful and I came too. Together, we moaned into the night, not caring about any passersby anymore. It was such a beautiful moment that I forgot everything around me and the only thought which was on my mind was that he was fucking me and coming inside me.  
When my orgasm dwindled, he was still gently rocking his hips and I realized that he wasn’t doing that for himself anymore but just for me. And that made me close my eyes and enjoy it twice as much.

Suddenly, light spread around us and I heard a loud and angry voice: “Hey, you! You two! What do you think you are doing here!”

As soon as he heard that man, he drew back and picked up my hat to hold it up in front of his face. I was still lying on the floor, happily spent, unable to deal with this shit now when he was stashing his dick in his pants again and zipping them up.  
I heard footsteps, so I sat up though and just glimpsed his face behind the hat. There was pure terror in his look. Within a second, I had understood that I had to save him and keep that man from finding out who he was. With my dick still hanging out of my pants and a pretty wet ass, I got up and took a switchblade out of the pocket of my pants. That asshole was still blinding us with his mega-lumen torch and I lifted my other hand to shield my eyes from it.

“Goddarnit switch that shit off!!!” I screamed and started walking towards the presumed centre of the light.

While I approached that security guard, I let the blade appear, but I kept my arm pressed to my body so he wouldn’t notice.

“Don’t come any closer!” I heard it very close in front of me; the voice so shaky that I knew that I had all the time in the world to approach him.

“Or?” I teased him, then I pushed his hand which was holding the torch away so he dropped it and the blade was already pressing against his throat when he started struggling.

“You switch that darned shit off now,” I started very calmly but with as much madness in my voice as possible, “Then you turn around. And RUN. You _got_ me?” I whispered into his ear, relying on my reputation and my voice and indeed, as soon as I let go of him, he turned around and ran away without switching the torch off.

For a few moments, I kept watching him to make sure that he was leaving, then I put the knive away and turned around and searched for him. Like a stone figure, he was standing there, still holding the hat, his coat neatly buttoned up. I snorted with amusement and took the hat to put it on my head again.

“I’m freezing,” he announced and put his hands into his pockets while he hunched his shoulders.

He was adorable in his shock. That man had given him such a scare that his blood had turned cold. No wonder, he was Bruce Wayne and in big trouble if he had gotten caught fucking the Joker. Since the news always found their way into the public mainstream media, security guard, bypasser, shop vendor or beggar, even. 

“We should get us some drinks then. The coffee shop?”

“Gods no, please,” he exclaimed immediately, adding, “Can we just...I don’t know, find a place which is not as crowded?”

I bit back the laugh; that man had scared the shit out of him and he seemed tired of needing to hide. Well, my make-up would have spared him running the gauntlet, but he had insisted on removing it. Standing next to him and watching him freezing his ass to death was quite a pleasure that way, but I had to get him out of this situation. Anyway, it was strange how he reacted to that incidence; he was the Batman after all and was used to shit which was a hundred times worse than this with surprise attacks, things exploding and moments which demanded being reasonable or someone was going to die.  
But I was wrong. He was just _not_ Batman right now. He was Bruce Wayne who had loved the Joker for the second time in his life only. 

Maybe this was my chance. He had come with the taxi and was free to go anywhere that way. I cleared my throat and finally put my frozen candy bar back into my pants too, then I wound the coat around my body. Lying on the ground had drained me of all warmth too.

“I know a place,” I said out of the blue, took his hand which was just as cold as mine and started walking into the direction of the public car garage.

I felt him following with stiff legs. At the entrance, I paid the fee and then opened the door of the passenger seat to let him sit down. Grinning, I walked around the car and sat down on the driver’s seat, then I turned on the engine and turned up the heating.

“Open the glove box,” I said and he did as I had told him.

I leaned down on his thighs and reached into it to get the comb, then I sat up and started dressing his hair. It was all gelled back as usual and I just tried to brush it the wrong way to get it into his face. It took me a while and several flinches later, it was covering his left eye. He looked like a goth boy that way and I bit back the laugh. At least, it was the total contrary of Bruce Wayne. To finish this masterpiece, I took the lipstick from my pocket and applied it to his lips, then I took my hat and put it on his head.  
I leaned back to look at him.

Adorable.  
Like a Gaylord.  
I flashed my teeth and said, “I think no one will recognize you that way at all. People will think you’re my callboy. Perfect.”

And having voiced this stupid tease, I engaged a gear and left the garage to drive to my district. He didn’t say anything. The only thing he did was pulling down the blind to look at the tiny mirror at the back of it. From the corner of my eye, I watched him looking at himself and how he lost all courage which had been left in his poor mind. When he seemed like having accepted his fate, he put the blind up again and crossed his arms.  
After a ten minutes drive, I stopped in front of an old pub. I knew that they had lots of Christmas decoration every year and that was why I usually stayed away from it as far as possible, but this time, it was the perfect place to be. And not too far away from my flat either, in case he came to be too drunk than to get a taxi.

Before I pushed down the handle, he took my arm and I turned around. Doubt.

“And you think they won’t recognize me?”

“They will only see your pretty lips, believe me,” I said and pulled him inside.

A few people were sitting there, not even so many thugs but some ordinary looking people who seemed like rather belonging to one of those modern, hip take-away coffee shops than here. No one cared about us entering; the barman knew me since I came to him four times a year, pressing him for money, otherwise I could not guarantee that the mob which was ruling the next few streets wouldn’t butt in one day and shoot him over to claim the place and build a fine new restaurant there which never would sell any burger or cup’o’Cola ever. Me or his life. And his life mattered more to him than his money. He lifted his head, greeted me in humbleness and turned to washing the glasses again.

They were playing Irish Christmas music there and fairy lights were spread all over the place together with mistletoes and harps. There were about 20 tables with comfy single seats there and I went to the table in the corner at the other end of the pub and put my coat there. He did the same and when he was sitting, I said, “Excuse me,” and went to the toilet. This time, for real. I took a few paper towels there, soaked them and then pulled down my pants to clean my ass. Cum was already trickling down my thigh. During getting out of the car, I had tensed up my stomach muscles and I had felt something leaving my ass. It was the first time I had cum in my ass so I had assumed that it would stay there anyway, just like shit did. But it didn’t. I spent two minutes cleaning myself, then I went to the urinal to have a piss. Unable to help it, I glanced at the door to check for him, but it remained shut.

After the last few drops had left my dick, I put it back into my pants without wiping it clean. My pants were already soiled and it didn’t matter if piss was on them as well. With a spring in my step, I walked back to him, took that chair and moved it so it was just next to him, facing the window too, and sat down. He turned his head and looked at me and I just smiled back. I felt so much more confident after that fuck that it seemed easy now to not behave like a jerk in his presence.  
Though, when the barman came, he turned away to look outside so he wouldn’t get the impression that we were silently flirting there.

“Brendan, bugger, how are ya?”

“How are ye?”

“Bring me Irish coffee.”

“You are kidding me.”

“I ain’t. See, this is my escort, Bruce, anAHHHH”

His elbow was in my ribs and I bent down, gasping for air.

“Me too, please,” he said in a very civilized way and removed his elbow from my ribs.

“And I’m Brad, by the way,” he added while the barman turned around to leave. 

“If you do this kind of shit just one more time I’ll see to your death personally,” he hissed at me while gripping the collar of my shirt. I smiled apologetically.  
Apparently, he was back to himself. Good. I grinned apologetically and he let go of the collar to sink down in his chair. I could see how uncomfortable he felt. And as much as I had wanted to tease him, I felt sorry now. He had agreed on coming along, taking a risk which he had not been able to evaluate at all. I hid my mouth behind my hand, pretending to prop my head up while peering at him.

He looked so pretty with that lipstick and those strands of black hair in his face. Like an 80s new waver. I was sure that he wouldn’t wear lipstick for anyone else.

“Has any women allowed you to wear lipstick yet?” I asked behind my hand.

He frowned and looked at me, saying: “Actually, I’ve never felt the need to put it on yet.”

And after that, he went silent again and looked outside. Still, he seemed so tense. But I couldn’t blame him. It was a place he didn’t know, a person as company which was prone to causing death and destruction and chances of getting recognized despite his disguise quite well, fifty-fifty.  
And though, he was sitting there next to me, taking whatever I’d throw his way. Because I mattered to him. Still unbelievable.

Two glasses were put down on the table in front of us, then we were left alone again. The barman really was the last person who’d ask about this man by my side. He knew that he was not to care.  
I took the glass and he took his to taste the drinks. He had put an extra shot of alcohol into it to please me. Good Irishman.

“Do you like it that rough?” I finally asked when he was having the straw between his lips.

“What do you mean?” he asked back and swallowed again.

“The slapping. That sort of thing.”

He glimpsed my eyes, then he looked outside again and I could see his cheeks turning slightly red again.

“I thought you might like it,” he admitted with a thin voice.

When I didn’t say anything but kept staring at him, silently adoring this man, he looked at me too and wetted his upper lip.

“ _Did_ you like it?” he asked me point-blank.

My lips turned into a smile without me wanting that.

“Yes, I did.”

And that was the end of our conversation again. He turned away, sipped his coffee and I did so too. Just when he put his hand down next to him, I peered down, then up again. He didn’t notice. I put my hand on his and grabbed it gently. He glanced at me and then stared outside again, but I knew that he was not really looking outside. He was pretending to look outside while all his thoughts and feelings were circling around this touch down there.  
It felt so good to hold his hand. He felt just as awkward as I and that helped me greatly since I was so afraid of showing him a side of mine which was so new to me too. How much I could enjoy just holding his hand. Somewhere, in that mind of mine, I had had a hopeless romantic slumbering and he had woken it, so it seemed. But I would do things my way. I’d never send him flowers. I’d rather send him a carnivorous pot plant and two dead flies in a sachet. 

I gripped his hand more tightly and he clung to mine too. And slowly, together, they grew warm.  
I didn’t want to let go of that man anymore. It had all started with the wish to have some superficial kind of conversation with someone I knew and now we had become the model Christmas couple. And if it was just for Christmas. I smiled and leaned back, taking his hand along.  
To be honest, visiting this pub had been part of my makeshift plan. I’d lull him into a false sense of security and then I’d carry him to my flat, pull down his pants and push it in. Just again. Just like that. Before he would even notice that his pants were sailing-

“I don’t want to call you Joker. Honestly,” he said and looked at me with raised eyebrows to emphasize the urgency of this request, “I feel quite stupid calling you _Joker_ in my head. We’re grown men. I’d like to know your name. As Bruce Wayne. No more, no less.”

His pants shot up his legs, zipped themselves and the button slid through the hole on its own. My dick got rid of the filling within two seconds and relaxed.  
I gazed at him in terror. Yes, it was that bad. It was like someone had asked me to show him this itchy rash on my glans. I’d show my glans to anyone, but I would not-

“Please.”

I clenched my teeth, bent my head and kept looking at him from below. His expression changed and he showed me a look which was killing me. Asking myself whether he’d be worth this, I turned my head away and looked outside. It hardly made sense that I was making such a fuss about my name, but really, it felt like I was giving them a weapon when revealing it to them. So personal that I could not even pronounce it myself. I looked down at the floor, fearing that if I didn’t tell him he’d take it personal and take offence.

“I can’t,” I said with a broken voice.

“I didn’t expect you to. But I thought I might just as well try.”

I bit down on my lip and got some dead skin between my teeth. Of course he felt stupid for calling me Joker in his head. I’d feel stupid for calling him Batman in my head. But it wasn’t exactly the same.  
I was more fucked up than I had thought. Not mentally ill, but fucked up. This intense fear about voicing my real name made me feel so worthless all of a sudden that I wanted to get up and leave, leave him sitting there, for he didn’t deserve this shit. He was about to spend his time on a bottomless pit which would never be filled.

His finger gently pressed against my underjaw and I lifted my head to look for the cause of his interruption.

“I didn’t mean to depress you with that question,” he said and I felt even worse for making him feel like needing to comfort me for my own derangedness.

I threw my head to the side to get rid of his finger and kept staring at the wall, struggling to keep sitting. Maybe I should end it. If this huge fluffy heart was about to close around me so gently I’d only hurt it with those toxic spikes on my outside. For the first time in my life, I would have ditched love in favour of someone; for a higher purpose, so to say. A lot of things were happening for the first time in my life with him, actually.  
I realized that I was no good for him. Even if I tried hard, I’d hurt him again and again. And what he had given to me so freely, his time, his attention, his empathy, his care, it seemed so pure that I was choking on it now. And again, for the first time in my life, my own darkness was dragging me down and I wished I had another soul to switch on and live with, instead.

As I fell deeper into this pit, I left his hand and also turned my body away from him, feeling like hurting him even with my presence. I never should have contacted him anyway and just kept this silly fight thing going. I felt so afraid of him and at the same time so afraid of dragging him down, sending him carnivorous pot plants and dead flies, oh yes exactly, that surely was what he needed for Valentine’s Day. My own egoism was killing me. He made me see it. So clearly. And I could barely take it.  
I got up and was about to lift my leg to make the first step when he pulled me down and I fell into his lap.

“And you really think you’re gonna get off this easy now?” he said with a mix of a threatening and scolding voice.

I struggled and tried to get up, with all my might, but he kept me in his lap and I got so desperate that I kicked his shin. He gasped and quickly embraced my legs with his, rendering me immobile. The fact that his dick was right under me threw me into terrible confusion; I could clearly feel it there.  
I gave up struggling since his tight grip unsettled me even more. If push came to shove, he was so much stronger than me and he could squeeze me to death without starting to sweat at all. I slumped down and put my head on his shoulder, breathing hard.

“It’s just a name,” he whispered into my ear.

“It’s far more than that,” I replied, feeling so weak that if he had asked me about it again I might have told him.

“An entire life which never should have existed.”

“All of us got that.”

“Not in this way.”

“We do.”

“Yeah?” I said angrily, questioning his sense of reality.

“Yeah.”

“So what’s yours,” I demanded to know, trying to make him speechless.

“I haven’t always been who I am now. I was a man who tried to fill that emptiness with women, one after the other. Newspapers said they had left me, but in fact, it had always been me leaving them. None of them could fill this hole. And as it grew, I turned to alcohol. And then to danger. And here I am, still stuck; however, this time not with trying to save myself but trying to save others. But again, just to save myself.”

He ended his confession and I gazed into vacant space.  
How courageous.  
I was such a coward, compared to him.  
Just then, I became aware of sitting in his lap and people surely noticing, so I got up and sat down on my chair again. He gave me a few moments to recollect myself, then he said: “I don't mind if you don't want to tell me. Just know that you're not alone.”

And that made me clench my teeth. His empathy was soaking my mind and despite my self-doubts, I felt so understood that his words were like a warm embrace. Maybe he really didn't mind if he was experiencing the same trouble. Within a moment, I felt so much better again and motivated to share some more of my life with him. If that was what he wanted too.

“Drink up and come,” I said, taking my chance.

And he did so and we got up and dressed. Before I walked out of the pub, I asked the barman whether he’d give me one of those fairy lights and of course he said yes and went to take one off. Instead of getting into the car, I headed down the street and pulled him along, holding his hand again. In silence, we wandered through the night and I had to defend myself against a sentimental fit and push him against the wall to kiss him. That was _too_ tacky, even for me. Yet, in order to tend to this need of closeness, I pulled his hand into the pocket of my coat and kept holding it inside so we wouldn’t feel so cold. He didn’t say anything.  
Maybe I had upset him with the last bit of conversation. I felt much better when he kept talking, even if it was about superficial things, but that way, I'd know that he was not upset when I constantly feared having done something wrong. I could hardly stand this kind of silence.

By the time we had reached the entrance of my flat I was so shattered that thinking of showing him this chaos inside just made me sigh.  
And he spoke, finally.

“What?”

I lifted an eyebrow and peered at him, pushing the key in.

“Nothing. Just thought of that chaos inside.”

“If I didn’t have a butler the house would be a rotting mess too.”

I stared at him in consternation until the words sank in and I curled up my lips. He _did_ want to enter. So I turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The smell of alcohol and tea was still in the air since I had left some of it in the cup. Which was on the table. And the first thing he saw when he entered now.

“Where can I put my coat?” 

I was standing in the middle of the room, seeing dust bunnies, stains and empty bottles everywhere and wherever I looked, I found something to cringe at. But he was asking me where he could put his coat. Gentleman.  
I turned around, took it from his hand and put it on the coat hook next to the door, then I undressed myself. 

“Uuuh,” I started off but hesitated. I shouldn’t have started at all when I was so unsure about continuing, but now I had caught his attention and he was waiting for me to say something.

“You want to change your clothes?”

“How?”, he laughed, “You think I got a spare T-shirt in my pocket, or what?”

“I might have one for you.”

Please, gods, take it, put it on, slobber on it, stain it, pee on it, cum on it and give it back to me. PLEASE.

He licked his lips, trying to hide the smile. Maybe he had figured me out. But who cared.

“Large,” he said and started unbuttoning his shirt. And I was torn between looking for a shirt and watching him.

He took off the jacket and put it on the other coat hook, then he unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it over his head and I saw his back. So many scars. Huge ones, deep ones. I opened my mouth and closed it again, feeling painfully moved by that sight. When he turned around, his torso naked now, I sucked in the air and went to the cupboard to get him a shirt. But there was no large one. I took the largest I got and handed it over. He put it on and tugged at it but gave it up. For me, it was a large shirt; for him, it was a slim-fit shirt. Even better. He looked down and sighed, then he took off his pants. 

I had not expected that. We was wearing boxers anyway, but I was left speechless when he boldly undressed in front of me. True, I had had his dick in my ass, but whenever we did not come to fuck, I was turning into this awkward jerk.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“Over there.”

I watched him heading for the bathroom and disappearing there, then I got naked and slipped into a black T-shirt which was long enough to cover my crotch too. It was thrilling to know that I wasn’t wearing anything else under it and he would notice too. Grinning, I went to the kitchen and prepared some tea for us. While the bags were soaking, I put the fairy lights on the shelf and switched them on. Never, there had been any of this stuff in my flat; no lights, no candles, no advent anything. But when I saw the warm white of these lights, I had to smile. I’d keep them for the rest of the year as well, not just for Christmas.  
I went to check on the teabags again and just when I was done preparing the tea, he left the bathroom and waited in the middle of the room. He had removed the lipstick and his hair was back to its usual shape. Not too bad either.

“Take a seat,” I said and put the mugs on the table in front of the couch.

He sat down and I next to him. Very close.

“Is that what it smells like?” he asked.

“I guess it is. I’ve got more sugar if you don’t like it. Or orange juice. Maybe even some milk. Or, no. The milk is sour already.”

And before I’d lose myself to a speech about the contents of my fridge, I took a cigarette and lit it. We sat there in silence. At least, he was exploring my flat with his eyes, doing _something_ , although I didn’t feel very good about that. When his eyes seemed to rest on the spot where I always put the dildo when I would ride it, I coughed and tried to distract his attention. There was no way he could have known that these stains were from shit and lube, but he was not just Bruce Wayne, he was also a detective. He would not look away, as much as I tried.

I put the cup down and started my offensive. Like a horny cat, I bent my legs, put them on the couch under my body and nestled against him. He darted me a disapproving look, but I ignored it and lay down in his lap, putting my head right on his dick and my hands on his thighs. My shirt slid up and bared my ass. I sighed in his lap and closed my eyes. If I was just allowed to rest there for a few moments, I would accept it and move away again if he came to push me away.  
But he didn’t. He finished his tea, bent over to put the cup on the table and pressed my head against his dick by doing so.  
Semi-hard.  
I’d have gone rock hard, had he lain down on mine.

I could smell it through the boxers. He had not cleaned it after fucking me. However, I didn’t smell any faeces but just jizz. Suddenly, I felt so special and so honoured to be allowed to lie on his dirt dick. Probably, he wasn’t aware of how romatic that was to me.  
He put his hand on my head and his other on my ass. And very slowly so I would not notice, but I did though, he pulled the shirt up some more to bare more of my body. What a cunning bastard.

A few moments later, I felt his fingers on my bare skin. Fondling my coccyx. And the sides, the bones of my pelvis. I flinched when he touched one of those spots. I knew that I had them, but no one had ever touched them except Harl for a few times. Seeing that he was able to push my buttons that way, he just did it again and I clenched my teeth and forced myself to stand this electrifying feeling in silence. He pressed down hard and I jerked and growled through my nose.

“Stop that!” I hissed against his dick which was hard by now. Oh dear, we had just had a fuck and were getting ready for the next one again.

“Why?” he replied as dumbly as possible and rubbed his thumb against the spot.

I could barely stand this interesting and though painful sensation and it got worse the more he stimulated that spot until I was so sensitive that lightly brushing over it served to give me goose bumps of pleasure. But I didn’t want that right now. My body might have wanted it, but my mind was somewhere else.  
With an angry snort, I pushed myself up and took a few steps backwards to get out of his reach. He looked at me with questioning eyes and only when he glanced down at my crotch I had to look down too. My boner was sticking out; the shirt resting on the base of it in folds. It was quite a funny sight, especially since I tried to defend myself against this urge. For the first time in my life. Even though I’d have liked to get it touched by him, I didn’t want to give in and end up on the floor again.

I darted him an angry glare, accusing him of making me horny again, then I turned around, took off my shirt while leaving and got into my bed. It was silent for a minute, then I heard him getting up and undressing too. And that got me all the more excited and horny.  
The blanket was lifted behind me and the mattress moved as he lay down. An arm was wound around my chest, the other was pushed under the pillow so I was lying on it and he lifted one leg to drape it over my thigh while his other imitated the pose of my bent leg so he could press his crotch against my ass.  
Spooning.

His face was resting very close to my neck and I felt his breath on my skin. I put my hand on his and wiggled my ass a little more into his crotchy embrace until he was touching as much of my skin as possible. I closed my eyes and tried to stand this and after the first minutes of feeling terribly vulnerable, I came to see that he did not take advantage of it and that I was allowed to behave in this way and show myself like this. I opened my eyes again and the fairy lights caught my attention. It was dark in the room and they lit part of it up in such a gentle and warm way that I came to describe it as romantic. Again, I made myself aware of where I was lying and who was holding me. Someone who cared about me, someone who loved me. Enough at least to be lying in my bed and wasting his time on holding me and doing nothing else but breathing against my skin.

He shifted his weight, removed his leg from mine to put both his knees into my knee pits and put his hand on my nipple. His boner was still pressing against my ass, but he didn’t do anything to help it. I closed my eyes again, thought of the warm light, the tea on the table and him behind me and a very profound feeling of peace took shape in my mind. For a few moments, my life was beautiful and the world was a lovely place to be in. None of those problems which usually claimed my mind were problems anymore and none of those worries seemed to be legitimate any longer. There was nothing but harmony and synchronicity, like I was meant to be part of this world.

When this feeling lasted for longer than I could take it, I turned a little nervous. He was lying behind me, all silent, holding me, not saying anything and yet again, I started to feel insecure. I would have wished to hear his voice now, something, just anything unimportant, whatever. I needed more of him than just his skin in mine; his eyes or his voice, something more personal.  
I turned around in his embrace and he let me, opening his eyes just when I had turned my head to face him too. His arm disappeared from my body and instead, I was gifted with the sight of his eyes. Cautiously, he peered at me and I stared back. Without losing eye contact, he rocked his hips, moved his body a little closer and the tips of our boners came to touch. Magically, like we had closed our eyes and tried to touch each other’s forefinger with the tip of our own.

Watching his lips slowly turning into a fascinated smile made me smile too. Like our dicks were kissing. It made me giggle like a 14-year-old. He seized that chance and pulled me closer into his embrace and my head came to rest against his chest now.  
I felt so safe that I considered something. What could he do with it? Nothing. Just nothing. It mattered to him and I had to acknowledge that. I’d try to do him a favour.

“Jack,” I whispered.

He didn’t say anything. The only change I perceived was him inhaling more deeply after hearing it. I didn’t want him to say anything.  
His hand brushed over my back and his fingers came to rest in my hair. He was claiming me. And the catastrophe after telling him my name failed to happen. I closed my eyes and moved closer to his chest so that I could smell his skin. I felt like a fragile butterfly in his massive arms, but their tenderness was all the more mind-boggling. So much muscles, so strong and so gentle.

“Thanks,” I whispered and snuggled up to his chest.

He remained silent and searched for my feet with his and when he had found them, he stuck one between mine and fondled my big toe. I smiled and enjoyed it.  
And this was how we fell asleep.

In the morning, though, I woke up as a single.  
The pillows were used, but no one else was lying there. A bit disappointed, I sat up and checked for him, hoping that he’d be in the kitchen preparing coffee or the like, but it was dead silent.  
Immediately, I was afraid of having committed a mistake. What had I done to put him off?  
I got up and went to the table to check for a note since I thought that it was just his thing, and indeed, I saw a piece of paper there.

“24th, 5pm, Wayne Manor.”

Those few words made up for the sorrow I had been about to drown in.  
The 24th of December, at his place. He’d take care of the butler and I could visit him. My flat for your house. I grinned with bliss and went to the kitchen to make some coffee for myself.

This time, on the 24th, I would not sit at home and think about cutting the right or left wrist, nor would I be dropping bombs from the townhall. I’d be sitting on a sofa in the living room of Wayne Manor with egg punch and a tacky Christmas comedy on TV.  
A man sitting next to me, wearing plain clothes. I’d look at him and he’d look back, silently telling me that he was thinking the same.  
That this was going to be the best Christmas he had ever spent as a grown-up. And I would tell him too that this was the best Christmas I had ever spent. As a grown-up _and_ child.

I’d need to get a present for him. And I got so excited that I spilled some coffee when filling up the cup. What? What could you gift a billionaire with? Probably, if I had asked him he’d have said something emotional like “Nothing, your presence is present enough,” but I wanted to give him a present so badly.  
With the coffee, I sat down, lit a cigarette and thought hard about it. It was difficult to come up with something which was neither superficial nor useless for him. Four days till Christmas. I racked my brains, but couldn't come up with anything reasonable.

I gazed at the fairy lights for minutes, then I turned my head and looked at the bed. There was the shirt I had given to him. He had left it there.  
I frowned and got up to inspect it more closely.  
White stains on it. My eyes went big as I realized what that was.

He had woken up, lying next to me. Confused, not knowing where he was, until his mind had woken up enough to tell him that he was at the Joker's flat. At Jack's flat.  
A white hill was in front of him, crowned with a green meadow, the blanket down at that body's hips. Carefully, he lifted it and bent over to look at that man's crotch to check whether he was the only idiot having woken up with a boner. But he wasn't.  
Grinning, he put the blanket down again and as carefully and slowly as possible, he got up from the bed and picked up the black shirt which he had dropped on the floor yesterday.

He sat down on the couch, wound the shirt around his dick and started masturbating. It was difficult for him to keep his mouth shut, but he contented himself with panting, hoping that he wouldn't wake him with that.  
After two minutes, he was ready and he quickly pulled the shirt over his dick to come right in it. It was so very pleasing to think of the cum soaking his shirt that he gave a low growl and squinted his eyes shut. And still grinning, he stopped moving and leaned back with the shirt wound around his dick. A muffled orgasm.

When he felt ready to get up, he unwrapped his dick, tiptoed to the bed and put the shirt there, then he picked up his clothes and went to the bathroom to get dressed. As he got dressed, he came up with an idea. It felt right. He left the bathroom, took a page of some old newspapers on the table and scribbled something on it, then he drank the remnants of the cold tea from _his_ mug, another glance at the bed and that man, then he left.  
Whistling the tune of a Christmas song, he went down the street, looking for a taxi and perceiving pink cotton candy expanding in his heart.

Surely, he'd try to come up with something to give to him on Christmas Eve, but his name had been a more beautiful present than any material thing could have been.  
Though, he was curious what he would come up with.  
And he'd love it. Whatever it was. He would _love_ it.

______


	3. Let it glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in the arms of the one you love.  
> The Joker and Bruce experience that for the first time in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this since usually, I'm not really up for fluffy romance fiction and I might have relapsed into my ritualistic roughness a few times even with this one, but in the end, it was a beautiful experience.  
> I hope that many of you can feel this in your own lives as well, that you are courageous enough to allow yourselves to get touched by someone who once was a stranger and slowly is turning into the most important person of this world for you.  
> If you don't right now, or haven't yet - accept my best wishes for this to happen to you too. 
> 
> Merry Christmas to everyone.
> 
> ___

**Let it glow**

While I was sure that he was sitting on his couch, smoking one cigarette after the other and trying to come up with an idea as for my Christmas present, his naked ass on the leather and his dick pressing against the cum-stained shirt I had left for him, I knew exactly what I would get for him. I went to the Christmas market and went straight to the booth with the snow globes.

“I need a custom one. How long does it take?”

“Oh dear, do you have any idea how many orders I got? They'll never be ready for Christmas.”

“Not if I pay an extra price either?”

He pursed his lips and looked at me, trying to seize me up, then he said: “How much.”

“350.”

He almost choked on his breath when he heard that. It was so easy to get people to do what you wanted them to if you brought up that green stuff which could work miracles. Being a billionaire sometimes paid off.

“What do you want?”

“I want a big one, one of those,” I said and pointed at a few with a diameter of about 25 centimetres, then I asked him: “You know the Batman?”

“Of course.”

“And the Joker?”

“Yes,” he said with his teeth clenched.

“Okay. I want to tease a friend and I need a snow globe with both of them kissing.”

I watched his face dropping.

“This is sick. And disgusting.”

I had not expected anything else but an outburst of consternation.

“I did not ask your opinion, Sir, but fine,” I said and turned around to walk off.

Oh the papery smell of three 100 dollar banknotes.  
Plus a 50 one.

“Sir!”

I pretended not having heard him and slowly walked off.

“Sir!!! Please, wait!”

“Yes?” I said and turned around.

“I'm sorry. I will do it. If you pay now.”

“Sure.”

And with that, I took the money from my wallet and handed it over.

“I'll pick it up on the 24th. My name's James Kensington. Here's a sketch of it,” I said and took a folded piece of paper from the pocket.

He took the paper, had a look at it, nodded and went to the inside of his booth to write down my name and the specifics.

“And give the Joker a pink suit.”

He tried hard to remain as unimpressed as possible, but I could see his mind throwing up.  
Chuckling, I went off and bought some chestnuts to sit down on a bench and eat them. Watching the people passing by made me think of him again. How we had come to kiss. I had been as excited as kissing a woman, but it had been different. Thinking of him as a man had turned me on even more. It was such an exotic experience for me that simply the fact that he had a dick made me horny again. Smiling, I had a few chestnuts and secretly thought of stealing one of those heart-shaped lampions. I was sure that he would have done it, had he come up with that idea. But I wasn't him.

I finished the nuts, then I got back home. The next day I stayed at the business a little longer and went to the market again since I loved remembering that feeling. Again, I got me chestnuts and headed for the Kissin' Corner, but someone was sitting there already. A man with a black hat and black coat. A roast potato just disappeared between red lips.  
I stood in the middle of pushing and shoving masses, gazing at him, not believing that he was suffering from the same fit as I. Chasing memories.  
I ducked down and made my way to the booth next to that bench to watch him from close. He had not noticed me yet and I was a pro at hiding.

It was a unique feeling to watch him when he didn't know that he was being watched. It was so personal, private and intimate that I perceived myself enjoying that to the point I got horny. He was being purely himself, without trying to impress anyone or keeping any facade up.  
He took another potato, dipped it in salt and ate it, then he looked up to watch the people. There was a magic in his behaviour which was special. A penny for his thoughts.

By the time he had finished half of the potatoes, someone sat down on the bench too. He didn't even look at him, but the man secretly peered at him. I grinned, just feeling what would come now. For about a minute, the man tried to keep to himself until he turned his head and looked at the Joker.

“You know you are sitting on the kissing bench?”

“Yes,” he replied without looking at him, ignoring him.

“You sittin there on purpose?”

“Yes.”

The man looked away and smiled to himself, then he moved a little closer. Unimpressed, the Joker kept eating his potatoes. I was looking forward to what was going to happen now.  
Again, a little closer, then the man put his hand on his thigh. And still, he ignored him. For a while, he kept his hand there, looking at him, then he moved even closer until their thighs were touching. Then he went the whole hog. The man turned his head and moved closer and finally, the Joker turned his head as well, calmly awaiting his advance. The man closed his eyes and shyly kissed him. And the Joker kept still. As he touched his lips, I felt a pleasure pang in my guts; though, I was unable to explain this sudden commotion. Watching him getting kissed by another man turned me on to such a surprising extent that I had to swallow and I clung to the wool sweater in front of me which was hanging from the roof of the booth.

He closed his eyes and kissed him back. My jealousy was drowned out by my growing lust.  
It was a short kiss since soon, he drew back, but though, it had left the man so self-confident that he just tried to move in again, but the Joker said: “Not here.”

He got up and waited for the man to get up too and I hid behind the sweater to watch them cautiously. But instead of walking around that bench to enter the park, just like I had done it, the Joker went straight towards the masses with the man following. And I left my place and tried to keep sight of him. A few people moved between the two and the man craned his neck to look for him, but the Joker kept elbowing his way through the people until the man stopped and looked around to search for him. I followed the Joker, pushing my way through people too until I was at the same level as him with a few people between me and him.

A big grin spread on his face, then I watched him laughing out loud. Such a sadistic man. God help me if I ever came to really be his enemy.  
I waited a few moments, then I made my way towards his back and hurried to catch up with him. I bent down, stuck my hand through the slit of his coat and grabbed his crotch from behind. He startled, then he swiftly turned around, already reaching out to punch this obtrusive idiot's face, but I lifted my hand to catch his. His fist hit my palm and I closed my fingers around it, smiling. I gave him a second to realize that it was me, then I pulled at his arm to get him closer and kissed him. His inner commotion surfaced in a very passionate and rough kiss until he drew back and glared at me.

“You know, I watched you cheating on me,” I said, grinning maliciously.

His glare faded and made way for a surprised look.

“I didn't, I mean, I didn't mean to-”

I silenced him with another kiss and stayed close to his face.

“I know,” I said and then drew back, “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“Well, I've come to like this here. But I gotta leave, got an appointment with a business partner a few blocks away,” I lied.

Disappointment in his eyes. But I didn't want to spend more time with him there right now since I wanted it all to build up till the 24th. He should suffer a little and come to crave me.

“What would you like for Christmas?” he asked and I had to bite back the smile as he was expressing his presents trouble.

“You,” I said, grinning.

He looked at me for a few moments, then he said: “Okay,” understanding that I wouldn’t give him any different reply than this one if he tried to ask again.

I kissed his nose lightly, then I turned around and left, leaving him there with a growing boner. It was hard for me to leave, but I smiled, feeling excited at the thought of meeting him at my home soon.  
Without any hurry, looking at Christmas decoration and lights and happy people, I went to the place where they were selling Christmas trees to look for one, but they did not match my expectations, so I left and drove to the forester of the adjoining forest of Wayne Manor.

“Is there any chance I could have one of your trees for Christmas this year? I know it's not common, but maybe there is a tree you can spare? It will be a special Christmas for me this year and I'd be very grateful if you had one for me.”

He looked at me for a very long time. Only a few times, I had visited him yet and he was a very solitary man who resembled one of those high trees with treemoss more and more with every further year and he didn’t talk much, but I knew that there was a kind of wisdom behind these lonely eyes which needed no words. Actually, I did not expect him to give me one, but I thought I could try.

“Please,” I added, “You have no idea how much this would mean to me. I've always spent Christmas alone in my house and this year, for the first time, someone's coming over to spend it with me. I'd love the hall to be filled with a big and splendid fir, thus.”

Being so honest made me feel awkward, but I felt that only the truth could make him cut down one of his trees for me.  
And he agreed. He asked me how tall it should or rather could be and told me he'd deliver it the next day in the evening. My eyes were glistening with joy when I thought of the finished tree. I thanked him a thousand times and left.  
The next day, I bought masses of decoration and in the evening, the tree came through the slide door. I gave the forester a gift basket filled with organic honey, bacon, sausages and all sorts of culinary delicacies.  
Alfred stood in the hallway, watching the spectacle in silence. Together with the forester, we put it up and when it was finally lifted and safely standing there and our bodies wet from the sweat of hard labour, I was so blissed-out that I couldn't close my mouth anymore. A huge tree, about six metres high.

The forester left and I went to the kitchen to get me some egg punch. Alfred had to make sure that there was always a bowl in the fridge and I'd really need some punch now to tell him about the bad news. I took a cup, filled it and waited for him to join me there, then I started.

“Alfred, I want you to spend Christmas with your family this time. Go and see Julia.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

A crestfallen old man growing even older within moments.

“And you?”

“I'll stay here. You see, I got the tree.”

“And why?”

“You spent every Christmas with me, sitting in front of the TV and having some wine. I want it this way this time, please.”

“What made you come up with that idea?”

“Christmas.”

He crossed his arms and eyed me warily.

“And the truth?” he asked with a demanding voice.

“This _is_ the truth.”

He glared at me for some moments, then he turned around and left, saying, “Fine. If you don't mind I will leave in the evening already.”

He was hurt. But I saw no other way how to have the house for myself on the 24th.  
While I got me a ladder and started decorating the tree, he packed his suitcase and two hours later, he showed up in the hall, dressed to leave.

“I'll leave now.”

Definitely, he was sulking. He'd have prepared a lovely duck or fish for the feast, but he wasn't even in the mood for that anymore. I felt sorry for that old man. But I could be so egoistic once in my life as to spend Christmas the way I had always wished to spend it.

“Shall I get you to the train station?”

“I already called a taxi,” he said with a flat voice and put on his shoes.

Definitely sulking. I watched him putting on the coat too, then he took the suitcase and opened the door without any further word.

“Alfred,” I said again, trying to save the situation, “Please, have some fun, okay?”

He looked at me with angry eyes, then he stepped outside and closed the door behind me. Thrown out of his own house, for Christmas. I sighed, then I went to the kitchen to get me some more punch. It was completely silent there. And when I sipped the eggs, I felt a kind of rapture coming my way and smiled. Never, I had been alone in this house, except a few times when Alfred had been out to do some shopping, but never for days. It felt so good that I suffered from pangs of conscience for feeling this way.  
I had another cup, then I went to the living room, switched on the radio to get some Christmas songs company and continued decorating the tree.

In the evening, I was done and looked at my work. The entire tree was sparkling and glittering in the light of the chandelier. Christmas balls in all colours were hanging from the twigs and branches together with tinsel and red Christmas festoons. And of course, lots of lights. I imagined him looking at it. A massive, festive Christmas tree. The biggest one, the prettiest one, the most impressive one. For the eyes of a child, the most beautiful one. I hoped that it would touch his heart.

I went to the kitchen to get another cup of punch and realized that it would soon be gone and I'd be left preparing some on my own. But I’d manage. I was sure I would.  
The next day, I went to the Christmas market to pick up the snow globe. I didn't even have to ask about it; by the time I had arrived at the booth, the owner was already presenting me a globe, holding it with two hands, looking quite proud despite his initial disgust.

The Batman and the Joker, kissing. Joker with pink suit. Immediately, I came to love that colour and had to grin. There was a small brass sign on the pedestal, saying “Merry Christmas - To Jack”, decorated with candy canes and mistletoes.  
Exactly the way I had asked for it.

“You like it?” he asked me despite seeing how cheerful I was anyway.

“It's perfect,” I said and he wrapped it up and put it in a bag.

I carried it to the car, then I stopped by a restaurant to pick up our dinner since I could barely cook anything else but scrambled eggs, sausages and rice. And egg punch, by now. The whole morning was dedicated to Christmas shopping and getting everything together and at 2pm, I finally arrived at home after a short break at a coffee shop. I took care of some more preparations at home, then I took a bath. To make sure that my dick would be extra clean and fresh, I gave it an extra treatment with the bath brush. And though, I was afraid that within a few hours, it would be back to its usual scent. But then again, he had never complained about that. When I caught myself considering shaving my legs, I got out of the tub and still dripping wet, I went to the kitchen to start binging on egg punch.

Three cups of punch later, I chose to lie down since I simply couldn’t bear with this nervousness any longer and really fell asleep. Two hours later, I woke up and glanced at the clock.  
4pm.  
My eyes went wide and I jumped from the bed, ran to the entrance door and looked outside, but he wasn’t there yet. Why should he. Shivering from the cold breeze, I closed the door and cursed my sleep-drugged brain. 

Coffee.  
I plodded to the kitchen and made me some, then I went to the dressing room. I got dressed in a fine suit and sat down in the living room to prepare my mind for the evening. With some Whiskey. After the first glass, however, I got up and went back to the dressing room where I undressed and put the suit back into the cupboard. Wrong choice. That one would have been for a gala dinner or for friends, but not for him. Though, it was difficult for me to come up with a better outfit since I did want it to be festive, yet, personal at the same time. 

At some point, I even thought of dressing as the Batman, but he didn't love the Batman; he loved Bruce Wayne. So what would Bruce Wayne wear? Black jeans, a nice white shirt and a black waistcoat. And a tie. And a jacket. Oh fuck no. I stood in front of the cupboard, facing the outbreak of a clothing crisis. I wanted to dress sexy and casual at the same time, but not too casual to not give him the impression that this wasn't something very special to me.

I sighed and took out the suit again. That _was_ sexy to me. But not casual. Deciding that I was wasting too much time on this petty thing, I put it on and went back to the living room to soften that mind of mine some more. I had another glass, then I returned to the dressing room, got rid of this formal stuff except for the pants and searched for the only black long-sleeved shirt I got. I put it on, added a belt and looked at myself in the mirror. Tight-fitting, sexy and though, formal. With a very content smile, I went back to the living room where I emptied the bottle. At 4:30pm I got nervous.

Welcome him, put the presents, if there were any, on the table in the living room, have dinner, show him the Christmas tree, unwrap presents, kiss, fuck, lie down, cuddle, fuck again-oh shit.  
Welcome him, kiss, have dinner, show him the tree, kiss again. No. Welcome him, unwrap the presents-I pinched the bridge of my nose and got up to have some more egg punch. By the time he'd arrive, I'd be so drunk that I wouldn't be hungry anymore.

4:45.  
I went to the entrance door, opened it and looked outside. Nothing but black night. I returned to the kitchen and opened the fridge to check on our dinner. Still there. Nothing strange. I went to the hall and checked on the Christmas tree. Still as pretty as before. I went to the living room, took the empty bottle and went downstairs to put it into the bottle tray. I went upstairs again and returned to the entrance, opened the door and looked outside.

He lifted his head and gazed at me with big eyes. And I did the same.  
For about a minute until he blushed. He was wearing his standard outfit, black hat and coat. Carrying a bag.

“Why didn't you ring the bell?” I asked him finally.

He bent his head and peered at me from below. Apparently, I wasn't the only one dying of nervousness tonight.

“Come in.”

I opened the door, stepped back and let him enter. He took off his shoes and I wanted to give him slippers, but he refused. I _had_ turned on the heating a little more to have it all warm and cosy here, but I would turn on the underfloor heating as well. When he took off the coat, I clenched my teeth. He was wearing skin-tight black pants, a fiery red shirt, a black jacket and black tie; his green hair gelled back the way I usually did it except for today when I had kept it all natural with just a bit of wax. Those tight pants made his legs look like they had no end.  
He turned around and caught me drooling over him. It made him look down at himself, then he looked back at me, the corners of his mouth moving as he was trying to keep himself from grinning.

“I thought you might like it,” he said with a low and very soft voice.

A kind of voice I had never heard before. I gave him quite a dumb stare which made him grin, finally.

“You got some punch?” he said when he realized that he could not expect anything intelligent from me right now.

“Well, yes,” I said, sighing at having forgotten the schedule.

I went to the kitchen and he followed me. There, I remembered the dinner.

“You want something to eat?”

“Not yet.”

“I got egg punch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, here,” I said, took my his-mug, filled it with punch and handed it over to him.

“Oh, my mug.”

“ _My_ mug,” I clarified and took another cup to fill it for me too.

And in the kitchen, standing, leaning against the countertop, we silently had some punch. Hiding my face behind the cup, I peered over the edge, eyeing him up as he was drinking and inspecting the kitchen.  
So hot. And so smart with that black suit and red shirt.  
When he glanced at me too, I quickly looked away.

“You want your present?” he asked, holding the cup with both hands.

“I already got it,” I said, smiling.

“Not the way it's supposed to.”

I put the cup on the counter and thought about it. Actually, I had wanted to delay that as much as possible, but if he was asking about it now I could hardly resist giving in. I had tried to come up with a schedule, but now that he was there and bringing his usual chaos along, I could not force myself to stick to it any longer and decided to do it his way. I looked into his eyes and saw that he was awaiting my reply.

“Okay. Come,” I said, took his hand and led him out of the kitchen into the hallway. At the end of it, there was a curtain hiding the hall from the corridor. I had put it there so he wouldn't see the tree the moment he entered the house.

I'd lead him to the curtain, enter the hall and tell him to open his eyes and he'd see that magnificent tree. I wanted to give him his childhood back. Maybe it was just a wrong assumption, but I guessed that he had never had any Christmas tree in his life yet, or not such a luxurious one.  
In fact, the longer I thought about it, the sadder I felt. I saw him sitting on the floor, shabby jeans and a red wool pullover, looking outside the window, watching the snow falling while his parents were quarrelling over money since his father had spent the Christmas money on booze and cheap girls so there was nothing left for presents for little Jack anymore.  
Or he was sitting there alone; his mother being forced to work on Christmas Eve too. His father long gone.

I felt so sad that I had to clench my teeth to keep myself from crying.  
No one deserved that. I took a deep breath, left that image in my mind and returned to my house where the grown up version of him was walking by my side, thrilled to bits.  
I imagined his eyes growing wide and glistening with deep and pure, innocent joy and fascination. I wanted to watch him opening his mouth, his jaw dropping at being so awe-struck. I wanted to see _him_ ; not his past or current present, but him, that authentic personality which had survived every kind of abuse and maltreatment and tried so hard to keep surviving.  
I took him by his hand and pulled him to the curtain.

“Close your eyes.”

He shot me a glance, then, smiling with anticipation, he closed his eyes and squeezed my hand to express his excitement. He was so adorable. The mind of a 10-year-old coming to life right next to me. So innocent. So naïve. So pure.  
I pushed the curtain aside and led him inside. I had switched off the lights and the tree was illuminating the hall in all its splendour now. I kept walking with him until I thought that the tree would have the most stunning effect on him. Taking a deep breath, I looked at him; his eyes still closed, his smile had grown. I glanced at the tree to see what he would see in a moment. Again, I looked at him, concentrating on his expression, then I said: “Open your eyes.”

He opened them and the very instant he saw the tree, he dropped his smile. His eyes went big and I felt my heart catching fire. He opened his mouth and gazed at the tree. Up and down, looking at all those colours and balls on it; the lights, the other decoration and on top of it, the huge red star.  
I watched him breathing deeply, taking in that sight.  
A full smile spread on my lips and I looked at the tree too, still holding his hand. That was the look I had hoped to see and the feeling I had hoped to feel too. It was a moment so sacred that it burnt itself into my mind. My heart felt so heavy and so light at the same time and I couldn’t say anything at all, so I let him behold the tree in silence.

Eventually, he looked at me and I turned my head too. And there he was. Deeply moved, so troubled inside, but with good feelings, overwhelming him. Thankfulness, sentimentality, joy, sadness. But a kind of sadness which came from that unfamiliar feeling of sentimentality.  
I closed my eyes and kissed him very gently, then I led him to the tree. He reached out and brushed over a twig, wanting to feel it on his skin.

“How the heck did you get that inside?” he said with a breathless voice, still looking at the decoration.

“It wasn't easy, but I managed,” I said, bent down and picked up the globe which I had wrapped up in shiny red paper with a huge ribbon on top of it.

He watched me picking it up, but he put his hand on mine and said: “Wait.”

Silently, I asked him what for and he smiled and told me to get a chair. I put it down on the floor again and went to get one of those luxurious chairs which I had lined up at the wall of the hall. Usually, there was a huge table in that hall with many chairs and I had simply moved them aside. I carried it to the tree and put it down there next to him.

“Sit down.”

Grinning with anticipation, I sat down, crossed my legs and leaned back. He took a few steps back, looked at me for one more moment and then unbuttoned his jacket.  
Slowly.  
Very slowly. While he pushed the buttons through the holes, he kept his head bent, not looking at me, staring at the floor. All that sentimentality was gone from his eyes and he looked so serious that my excitement grew.

He pushed the jacket aside and let it slide down his arms. Fiery red came to light; a colour so intense and obtrusive that I felt a little intimidated. It suited him perfectly; the red of the shirt and his lips and that intense contrast of his white skin and green hair. He was so beautiful with the hair gelled back, like a classy dandy.  
Without any hurry, he reached for his tie, made the loop wider and pulled it over his head. He let it drop down on the jacket, then he glanced at me surreptitiously. I had bitten down on my tongue and was watching him closely, already finding that little strip show so erotic that I had folded my hands in my crotch to keep in touch with my dick.

Breathing a little harder with excitement already, I shifted on the chair and finally propped my head up on my hand, my fingers covering my mouth to keep myself from saying anything or revealing more of what I was thinking. Just a whiff of nakedness; he had only taken off the jacket and tie and I felt like jumping at him already. He knew how to push my buttons. So self-confident. None of this awkwardness of when we had met at the market; none of that uneasiness. Pure confidence, on fire, right in front of me.

He narrowed his eyes a little and smiled faintly. He saw that his tease was working out. And I let him. I enjoyed being seduced in this way. No woman had ever given me such a show yet. Of all people, it was finally a man who was stripping for me. I came to believe that I had been destined to meet him at the market.  
I gave him a dark look and sank down a little in my chair. He glanced at my crotch and I closed my eyes, knowing that he could not miss the bulge. He was such a tease.

He lifted his hands again and opened the first few buttons of his shirt and I saw red colliding with white. So beautiful.  
However, suddenly, he turned around and I saw him working on the other buttons too. I cleared my throat, feeling so excited. On purpose, he had turned around to hide from me. Whatever was under that shirt, it was worth the fuss.  
The shirt was open; he took the collar and pulled it down a little, then he let it slide down his arms too.

White shoulders, thin red stripes over them. White shoulder blades.  
And then I lost it.  
Red frills followed by delicate red lace embraced his back under his shoulder blades. A thin layer of mesh and lace covered his skin; a lace corsage.  
Red whirled through the air as he turned around and I swallowed when I saw his front. The corsage fit his flat chest perfectly; there wasn't a bit of fabric left for any breasts. He must have gotten it custom-made.

A purple frills hem and beautiful red and transparent lace stretching over his belly. I got stuck at his navel and took a deep breath, feeling a pleasure pang in my guts. How I wanted to grab his hips, feel this fragile body which looked even more fragile in this dainty attire and just connect with it, feel it under my hands and know that this was mine. I pressed my fingers against my mouth and looked up at his face. When he saw that his appearance turned me on, he smirked and let his hand slide over the corsage and I watched his fingers caressing his skin and playing with the frills until he arrived at his pants.

And very slowly again, he opened the belt, dropped it on the floor and then opened the button. I clenched a fist and crumpled my pants. It was inevitable and though, I could barely stand this tension. He pulled down the zipper and I was dying to see his genital, but again, he turned around and I growled with frustration. Nervously, I scanned his body with my eyes, feeling a little embarrassed at having let myself go in that telling way. But then again, why shouldn't I express myself too; expecting him to connect with his true self and show it while I'd be scared at myself expressing my arousal. Yeah, right. I was so aroused I didn't even know what to say and instead sank down a little more, hiding behind my fingers.

He pulled his pants down and as he pushed them down his legs, he presented me his ass.  
Red and purple lace. His white skin showing through. Firm and small ass cheeks. I sat up and pressed my hand against my dick. Such an inviting sight.  
He dropped the pants on the clothes heap next to him and straightened his back, spreading his legs. A hand appeared on his ass and he squeezed his cheek, then he fondled it a little and finally turned around. His hand was resting on his chest and I dropped my gaze to finally glimpse his crotch.

The sight threw me completely. It was a panty for women and thus, there wasn't much space for anything bigger than labia, so his dick was pressing against the lace, semi-hard, almost peeking out from it. It made me breathe hard.  
Green fluff was seaming the panties and it looked so tasty that I wanted to rub my nose against those stubbles. He must have realized, since now, he left his ass and brushed over the pubes, then he cupped his dick and balls. He squeezed and I heard him inhaling. His eyes searched for mine and he gave me a dark look.

With a wicked grin, he reached into the panties and fondled his dick. His own touch made him bend down and close his eyes. And chuckling, he pinched his nipple and hissed. He straightened his back again and with his eyes a-twinkle, he headed for the curtain and disappeared behind it. I followed him with my eyes until he was gone, then I stared at the curtain, eagerly awaiting his return. About one minute later, I heard a sound.  
It was the clacking of shoes.

Clack clack clack.  
The curtain was pushed aside and he posed in the doorframe, presenting me his body again, but I looked down to find out what he had done with his feet.  
Blazing red and shiny high heels. So high that he seemed one foot taller. He slapped his ass, then he faced me and wiggled his ass towards me, carefully placing one foot after the other, doing it as sexily as possible. I licked my lips and swallowed.

He came to stand in front of me and posed so self-confidently that again, I felt a little intimidated. I let my eyes slide up his legs, over his crotch with his boner which could hardly be held back by the lace anymore, and up his belly again. I wanted to unwrap him.  
When I reached his face, I took a deep breath and pressed my legs together. He was so beautiful. The red lips, the green hair so neatly gelled back, the black eyes and his white skin. An exotic beauty, coming from a strange land.

Grinning, he walked up to me and with utmost excitement, I watched him placing one foot after the other again until he spread his legs and his dick slid out of the lacy cage. He sat down in my lap and I jerked when his balls lay down on my own boner. A seductive glance, then he started unbuttoning my shirt. He did it very slowly to tease me and I just put my arms on the armrest and patiently waited until he was done. Meanwhile, I beheld his face.  
When he was done, he pushed the shirt aside and let his hand run down my chest. He stopped at my navel and fondled my muscles, then he leaned in and licked my nipple. I was so worked up that I flinched as his tongue touched my skin.

I was already panting and I desperately needed some more of this, so I pressed my hand against his head, but he took it and put it on the armrest again, then he smiled and circled my nipple with his tongue.  
His other hand was working on the button of my pants and while he distracted me by teasing my nipple, he opened them and I only got aware of that when he gripped my dick through the briefs. I moaned and moved into his touch, but he pushed me back against the chair and straightened his back so I saw his dick finally again. Mine and his were pointing towards the ceiling, having assumed a darker colour already. I gazed at them and licked my lips. And just then, I realized that I wanted him in my mouth.

A very rare occasion. Up until now, I had gone with fucking him, having as much distance between me and his piece as possible, but apparently, something had changed in my mind and I was ready, no, eager to taste it.  
When I looked up, I found him looking at me, smirking.

“You like seeing your own dick,” he said and I could hear glee in his voice.

“No, actually, I like seeing _yours_.”

He licked his lips and grabbed it and gave it a few strokes. He was so sexy when he was masturbating. It got worse when he started adding moans to every stroke and I pressed my back against the chair, suffering terribly.

“What do you want me do to?” he whispered and kept stroking his dick, giving me a piercing stare.

I thought about how to express my wishes for a few moments until I decided to rather walk it than talk it and I gripped his hips, froze for a moment since they felt so delicate, and then lifted him up. He got it and left my lap and I got up too. I got out of my shirt, pants and briefs, then I told him to leave the hall. And I only told him so because I just wanted to see this hot ass moving. After glancing at my dick and commenting on the sight with an amused “ahaah”, he paraded towards the door. I watched his ass cheeks moving up and down and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. He knew exactly how to push my buttons.  
Only after he had disappeared behind the curtain, I followed him. He was surprised to see me showing up there too, but without explaining anything to him, I went to the sleeping room with him following.

I had prepared it for tonight and had chosen fresh black bedclothes. They gave me a feeling of debauchedness and luxury. I went to the bedside table, took handcuffs out of it and carrying them in my hand, I approached him again. He glanced at them and back at me, and I saw the corners of his mouth twitching in anticipation.  
I came very close, then I put one round his right wrist, closed it, pulled his hand behind his back and closed the other cuff around his left wrist. Instantly, his look changed and he seemed like a wild animal which had been caught and tied up, only waiting for its chance to bite its catcher to death. 

I smiled at him and went to the bedside table again. This time, however, I kept the thing hidden behind my back. From behind, I covered his eyes with the scarf and made a knot at the back of his head. I heard him swallowing.  
Grinning, I walked around him and checked on him and seeing him tied up and blindfolded released a flood of images in my head, all of them dealing with me pushing him around.  
Yet, suddenly, he licked his lips and took a step back, hunching his shoulders. Without him needing to say a word, I understood that he felt uncomfortable and I took a step towards him and hugged him. He flinched when my body touched his, but he remained calm in my embrace, not struggling at all. 

I moved close to his ear with my lips to make him hear me breathing and I let my fingers run down his back, over his spine and down to his ass. Instead of grabbing it, I only snuck under the lace and fondled his butt cheek very gently.

“Relax. I want you to surrender yourself to me,” I whispered into his ear and he craned his neck, opening his mouth to breathe through it now too.

“Yeah, like that,” I added and sucked his earlobe and all that tension left his body.

I drew back and turned to caress his nipple now with my tongue. It was stiff already, but I wanted it a little stiffer and I sucked hard until he gasped with pain. Tomorrow, we’d see the result of this harsh treatment and he would remember me sucking it when he’d see the contusion.  
I took a step back, took his arm and hurled him on the bed. He didn’t shriek, but I heard the surprised gasp. When he was lying there, he needed a moment to figure out what had happened. But I didn’t give him that time. I climbed the bed too and just when he was about to sit up, I pushed him down again and kept my hand on his chest to keep him from getting up. We had switched roles and now I saw how much fun he must have had when doing his striptease and keeping pushing me back into the chair.

He swallowed with excitement again and I bent my head to let my breath hit his skin for a minute, then I licked his chest while I fondled his pubes under the lace. I got up a bit and reached behind me to trace along his leg and just then, I realized that he had shaved them. Small red spots were spread all over his legs and I had to bite back the laugh, thinking of him cutting himself when shaving them. His legs felt so soft and smooth under my touch that I just had to do it again and I let my hand slide up to his crotch and down again, closing my eyes even to enjoy this velvet feeling. Though, I glanced at his face and saw him grinning. 

I got down and licked his leg, starting with the inside of his thigh, having him flinching and hissing with arousal, then going down over his knee and his calf and finally, his foot, down to the high heel. I took the heel and lifted his leg, then I skilfully removed the shoe and took his toes in my mouth. He gave a passionate moan and arched up into the air. I tried to not tickle him and sucked his toes and thinking of me licking his feet just heightened my pleasure.  
With utmost dedication, I wetted his toes, one after the other, then I took his big one into my mouth and sucked and again, I had to think of his dick.  
I was ready now. He was quivering under my touch already and even despite me wishing to delay this again, I _had_ to get his dick in my mouth finally.

Carefully, I put his foot down, put the shoe back on and then leaned forward. I shot him a glance to check on him, but he seemed alright, so I gripped his dick and without any warning went down on it.

“Aaaahhh!”

The loveliest moan of pleasure I had ever heard; so surprised, so intense, so honest. When I took more of him in, he moaned through his nose and lifted his pelvis a bit to get more of me.  
How often must he have dreamt of me sucking _his_ dick. He had always had mine in his mouth, but now it was my turn. And I loved it to bits. Feeling this hard piece in my mouth drove me crazy and had I touched my own dick, I’d have come instantly.  
Greedily, I moved my head up and down, not caring much about the art of sucking someone off, but just savouring this feeling of having his erection inside. And he seemed to like it anyway. 

I slowed down a little and only licked his glans, finally trying to imitate his moves to give him just as much pleasure and I watched his face closely. Behind his back, he moved his arms, pulled at the cuffs and tried to get rid of them, but there was no way he could get out of them. I grinned and decided to tease the hell out of him. Still with his dick resting in my mouth, I pulled down the panties, then let go of his dick and sucked one of his testicles in. He shuddered and gasped.

The smell of his genitals was a bit distracting and it got worse when I was so close to his balls with my nose, but it didn’t keep me from giving that bit all the love I felt for it though. I moved it around in my mouth, let it drop down and got it back in again. I did that a few times until his breathing became louder, then I moved up to his head with his body under me now. I was just about to lean in for a kiss when I realized that he’d taste his own balls if I kissed him now. And that might not have been what he wanted at all. Quickly, I closed my mouth and instead bent down to kiss his neck.

After a few moments, my kiss turned into sucking and he cried out when it got too hard. Tomorrow, next to a bruised nipple, he’d be able to look at a most beautiful love mark on his neck too. The skin of his neck was so tender that I longed for something more substantial and moved down again to continue sucking him off.  
I’d do that now. I’d make him come. And I’d try to swallow. I was determined to swallow.

Again, I grabbed his dick and sucked him off and I even came to use my hand as well, masturbating him along to my moves. He knew that I wanted him to come now and he grinned and let his head sink back to enjoy it. After a minute of intense work, I tasted pre-cum. I slowed down and tried to keep myself from jumping from the bed and getting something to rinse my mouth with. I _so_ was not used to that. Something coming out of a dick and I had it in my mouth. I swallowed hard and stopped, finally, but he took it for a teasing pause and shifted on the bed, wiggling his ass, demanding some more.

I took a deep breath and looked at his dick which was lying on his belly. It looked so tempting from here and though, thinking of liquid coming out of it made it hard for me to get back to work. I looked at his face and saw him grinning. How often had he sucked me off and never batted an eye? But I wasn’t him. I licked my lips and decided to give him that special present tonight. It wouldn’t kill me.  
I brushed over his inner thighs, then I got back down on it and sucked till he was panting to the rhythm of my moves. Sweat was glistening on his body and his cheeks were flushed.  
I closed my eyes and concentrated on making him come and I masturbated his entire shaft with my hand to milk it out of him.

“I’m coming,” he breathed finally and I had the impression that he was trying to warn me, but I kept it in my mouth.

Three more seconds which felt like a minute since I was so excited and really dreaded the following event.  
He cried out in pleasure, arched up and buried his dick in my mouth deeper than I was willing to take it and came. Cum splashed against the insides of my mouth and I gagged reflexively, but I pulled myself together and swallowed.  
More.

And more.

It didn’t seem to end at all. An entire flood was spilled in my mouth and I had to collect it. His most private liquid. So personal.  
And suddenly, this thought made me love it. And I closed my eyes and swallowed what was still left in my mouth, thinking of him and his body.  
When I was done honouring him in this way, I moved back and cleaned his tip very elaborately while he lay on the bed like a stone, breathing heavily.

He swallowed several times and seemed like wanting to say something, but his orgasm had wrecked him. Finally, while I was still licking and sucking his hypersensitive tip and fondling his balls, he breathed: “Actually, I was supposed to be the present and do something to _you_.”

“You _are_ the present.”

“Did you really suck me off?”

I closed my lips around his glans again and teased it and he flinched.

“But you haven’t come,” he said and lifted his head to guess my position and let me have the impression he was looking at me.

“No, I haven’t,” I repeated and knelt down between his legs.

I pulled his panty up again and tried to stuff his balls and dick into it, but his balls kept slipping out, either to the right or to the left, so I gave that up and let them hang out at both sides.  
The lube was in the drawer. I let my body fall down on his leg as I reached for the drawer and he shrieked. Chuckling to myself, I sat up again and lubed myself up, then I put the bottle away and took his legs, but stopped.

“You want to watch?” I asked him, trying to see things from his perspective.

I definitely would have wanted to watch.

“How you rape my ass? Yes.”

“I won’t rape it this time.”

“Well, even if you did I wouldn’t object to it,” he said and grinned wickedly.

Right now, I didn’t want to know about the details of this statement at all and just bent forward to remove the scarf from his eyes. And as I was unwrapping him already, I also removed the cuffs. He blinked a few times and stretched his fingers, then looked at me. And his grin grew.

“There’s cum on your cheek,” he said with a nasty voice.

When I just stared back at him, showing him the full extent of my annoyance at this bold remark, he sat up with one swift move and licked it from my cheek. His own cum. He smacked his lips and let himself fall back again, lifting his legs by doing so and slamming them down against my collarbone. A very explicit invitation to fuck him.  
He was such a tease, still with that lace corsage. I put my fingers on the high heels and rubbed them against the patent leather.

“You like walking around like that?” I boldly asked him.

“Sometimes,” he said, grinning mischievously, “If I can turn a few heads, yes.”

“So you do that in public too?”

My own question aroused me and I shifted my weight and licked my lips, feeling more blood gathering in my dick.

“I did a few times.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he paused and glared back at me.

“But it stopped being fun, eventually,” he finally added with a voice which sounded even sad.

“Why so.”

He took a deep breath and turned his head away. I feared I had said something wrong and I didn’t know what to do now. I had not wanted to ruin this moment at all, I had just been curious.

“Being a sex-object is nice,” he started off, looking at the wall next to us, “But if there never is any love it’s simply not enough,” he ended and then came to look at me again.

With eyes which showed me how much he was suffering. How much he was hoping for this to be different. How much he craved that experience of being loved.  
I blinked several times and looked to the left, trying to clothe those thoughts in words in a way which wouldn’t hurt him.

“Well,” I said and licked my lips, “I _only_ find you sexy because...”

I couldn’t say it.  
He pursed his lips for a few moments, but then the smile burst through.

“I don’t mind being sexy for you,” he whispered and reached down to pull the string of the panty away from his butthole.

“I don’t mind at all.”

He inserted one finger and instantly, I left this conversation and gazed at his ass. Without me noticing, he bent one leg and put the heel of his shoe on my thigh, then he let the other leg join it and put the heel on my other thigh. I had to look at the shoes. They fit him so perfectly and they really seemed to be his kind of thing. Had I only seen his legs, I would have mistaken them for female ones, as neatly shaved and clothed as they were. It really seemed like I could have both; a woman and a man. Or something else entirely.  
A second finger disappeared in that tiny black hole and I grinned and grabbed my dick to stroke it.

I watched him spreading himself and the wider his ass got, the more forcefully were those heels pressing against my flesh until my thighs ached terribly. I wasn’t sure whether he was the devil or a diva.  
Eventually, I looked back at his face and just caught him licking his lips. Some strands of his hair had left the gel mass and were draped over his forehead, which made him all the sexier. And he was so well aware of his appeal. He grinned, shook his head and gone were the strands. However, just one second later, they fell back into place and he flirted with me with his eyes, swiftly narrowing them and raising his eyebrow.  
A devilish diva. 

“I’d be ready now,” he said while he kept grinning at me, giving me a dark and seductive look. And the show started all over again. He removed his heels from my tortured thighs and placed his knee pits on my shoulders again, presenting me his ass.

Slowly, I inserted my tip and waited a little. He kept a straight face and I moved my pelvis to the sides, kind of seesawing and teasing his opening with those moves. He shut his mouth and clenched his teeth, still smirking.  
Until I pushed it in. He opened his eyes wide and gasped. For a moment, I enjoyed this incredible tightness, then I started rocking my hips, fucking him. I had been waiting for this so long and I couldn’t hold back anymore; even less now when I was inside already. I clutched at his legs to keep him in place and penetrated his ass without any consideration for him. Since, if he didn’t mind if I raped him I would just take from him what I needed now. 

His short laugh told me that I was right. I closed my eyes, grinned and fucked him as violently as I pleased. When I looked down to check on him after a few blissful moments of liberation, his head was pressing against the pillow and a similar expression greeting me there. He was semi-hard again.  
I stopped and drew back slowly, then I shoved it in again and watched his face closely since I wanted to see whether he was taking delight in getting his prostate stimulated like that. Often, I had had women who had told me that they failed to understand all this fuss about their love spot and even if I stroked them they wouldn’t come to feel any difference, so I was curious whether he was so aware of his body that he’d connect with it and enjoy it now.

His pants grew louder as I kept repeating this move, slowly out and forcefully back in, and so I knew that I was able to please him this way too.

“That good?” I asked though just to hear it from him.

“Deeper,” he breathed and I drew back and shoved it in as harshly as I could till my pubic bone was squeezing his balls black and blue.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself, moved back and added a bit more violence when moving back into his fleshy embrace and he tensed up and gave a cry of pleasure.

Not the usual fuck. Not the usual fag. Not the usual way.  
If he enjoyed a little violence I’d give it to him, even on this peaceful Christmas day. I kept rocking my hips in that special choreography until I myself couldn’t take it anymore; his muscles always teasing my glans to hell when I entered again since he clenched his ass on purpose then. His dick was hard and thus peeking out from under the lace again and looking at this tasty bit together with his balls exposed as well and happily bouncing up and down as I fucked him made me reach my limits.

I changed the rhythm and gave him short and forceful thrusts, seven of them, and then I came. I closed my eyes and tightly gripped his legs. Those legs which ended in red high heels. I stifled a moan and felt my dick twitching inside his ass, getting rid of the load.  
Panting and moaning, I opened my eyes again and looked down to watch my dick sliding in and out of his ass, taking some lube and semen along. Mesmerized, I gazed at our bodies being connected in this indescribable way and my mind left my body. I spilled all my semen and still fucked him when my orgasm had faded again, for as long as I could, until my dick was too limp than to do anything else but hang from my body and I let it drop from his ass and sat down.

Right in front of me, lube and semen trickled from a very aesthetically gaping asshole. Down on the fresh black sheets. A white finger collected some of the liquid and I watched it disappearing in his mouth. He just couldn’t resist. I was too spent than to smile now, so I simply watched him enjoying himself and that mess.  
He stuck two fingers in then and got a considerable load on his hand. And grinning, he brought it to his mouth to lick it clean. With such passion and awe that I felt a little awkward.

“If you’re hungry I got some food in the fridge, you know,” I said with a lifted eyebrow, trying to stop him from making me feel so embarrassed about my own cum.

Yet, he did not allow me to interrupt him and kept licking my semen from his pinky.

“Alright,” I said and got up, acknowledging that he was in a sort of trance of which I didn’t want to know the details either.

“Why do you feel embarrassed?”

I had already turned my back on him, about to leave the room when he asked me that.

“I don’t feel embarrassed,” I said and turned around to face him.

He was sitting in the middle of the bed, his legs bent, making him look like a peach coloured spider with red markings. Oh that spot on his neck. It was turning purple already.

“But?”

He would not give up until he’d hear what he wanted to hear.  
I badly needed some water and maybe even some food now so I decided to end it by admitting it.

“I don’t feel comfortable watching you licking _my_ cum from _your_ ass when I’m sure it leaves quite a nutty taste in your mouth. O-kay?”

His smirk grew and he looked at me from below like some malicious imp.

“Let me if I like it. What of that is your problem?”

“It’s _my_ cum.”

“And that entitles you to decide what happens with it?”

I couldn’t believe we were having a discussion about my cum and its use. Or abuse. I lifted my eyebrows, shook my head and left the room though, craving some cold liquid.  
After having had a glass of water, I took the food from the fridge and switched on the oven. And now, in the distance, thinking of him licking my cum from his ass turned into something I could imagine myself jerking off to next time. It was funny how quickly some squicks could turn into kinks with him if I was just allowed to reflect on it some more.

He appeared in the kitchen and came to look at the food. Still, he was wearing his high heels and I couldn’t but look at his ass when he inspected the roast meat.

“Hope you ain’t vegetarian,” I said to tease him a little.

“At least, I’m not vegan.”

“Does cum count as some animal product?”

“If you’re an animal, yes,” he said, straightened his back and looked at me, obviously wondering where my head was.

He gazed at me until he turned pensive and finally said: “Does Batman cum count as an animal product?”

“I guess it does.”

“I’m not vegan anyway, nor am I vegetarian. You’re lucky,” he finished this weird discussion and bent down to take a bite from the roast.

“What the fuck are you doing! It’s cold and I have to warm it up and you can’t just...bite into it!”

“Mo?” he said with a mouth full of ice-cold meat, “Fee, I cam.”

I sighed. And at the same time, I felt so happy.  
How much time had passed since my last bantering chat with someone I cared about. Much too much. I watched him taking another bite and ditched my plans for dinner. Instead, I got me my cup and filled it with egg punch. One day, I’d run to the bathroom, projectile vomiting crème beige half-digested egg punch since it had gotten too much and I’d never even look at eggs again.

“Don’t drink before dinner,” he said, took my cup and emptied it himself.

And then I understood that a relationship with this man would be so very different from anything I had had before and that my days would never be boring. He was a clown to the bone and even when he didn’t intend to be funny I found it funny as hell.  
He leaned against the countertop and looked at me. And I glanced at his crotch again. A helpless victim to my own mind. I pinched the bridge of my nose and left the kitchen to clean my dick and get us two bathrobes. I slipped into the blue one and handed a black one over to him.

Grinning, he took it and said: “What, tired of this already?” and brushed over his chest.

“The contrary,” I mumbled and made a knot, “If I keep seeing this I’ll just go mad.”

He wrapped himself up too, then I put the meat into the oven, set the alarm for 30 minutes, took an egg punch cup and left for the living room, moving my head towards the door to tell him to follow. 

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“Over there.”

Now it was his cleaning time and smiling, thinking of him cleaning his ass, I went to the living room and took care of the fire, then I sat down on the couch, still thinking of him there.  
Just when I wanted to switch on the TV, he showed up again and sat down next to me. With the remote control in my hand, I hesitated. It was so peaceful and so silent that I didn’t even need any extra noise right now, so I put it back on the table, had some punch and then leaned back, gazing at the fire in front of us.

After about a minute of pointlessly staring at the flames, he moved closer.  
And closer again until his shoulder was touching mine. I peered at him, but he wouldn’t look at me. Smiling, I lifted my arm and placed it on his shoulders and he snuggled up to my side. He put his head on my shoulder, sighed and closed his eyes.  
I looked at the fire for a few more minutes, watching the flames dancing and listening to that unique calming sound, then I closed my eyes too and let my head sink down on his.

It was like the world had stopped to move. All around us, it was spinning and jumping and thrashing, but here, in this house, it had come to a halt. It was warm, cosy and the fire turning the room into a huge theatre of moving shadows. And next to me, someone.  
Not alone, as usual on this day. But with someone who enjoyed my presence just as much as I enjoyed his.  
Under my head, I heard him snoring. But only slightly. It was such an adorable sound that I had to grin and tried to not move again to not wake him up. I wanted to listen to this forever. The fire and his snoring. Completely relaxed, so relaxed that he had fallen asleep. Really sweet.

Though, after those 30 minutes, the alarm went off and he startled and sat up, quickly turning his head from right to left, sputtering: “Where’s the fish? I caught it, it was here and she...”

Until he realized that he had been dreaming. Laughing, I got up and went to the kitchen to take out the meat. I carved it and prepared two plates, then I gave him one and he just sat down behind the kitchen table.

“What, here?”

“Why not. I like it here.”

Right, the best feng shui of a house was still in the kitchen. So I sat down and we ate in silence. When he was done, he got up and left. I did the dishes, put the meat into the oven again and then went to search for him. And I found him standing in front of the tree again, looking at it. Silently, I approached him from behind and wound my arms around him, put my head on his shoulder and said: “I’ve never had such a beautiful Christmas as a grown-up before.”

“I’ve never had such a beautiful Christmas ever before,” he said with a sad voice.

And I believed him. I licked my lips and smiled, then I let go of him. It was time for his presence now. I picked it up from the floor again and handed it over, saying: “Merry Christmas to you.”  
He gazed at me for a moment, then he took it and was surprised at its weight.

“What is that, a rock paperweight?” 

He was trying to lighten up the mood, but I knew that as soon as he’d see that, he’d not say anything anymore. I thought that I knew that part of him well enough by now to dare make such predictions.  
Like a child, he sat down on the floor, put the thing in front of him and started tearing the paper apart until it was all gone. He lifted it up and looked at it.  
His lips twitched slightly and I watched his eyes glazing over. In silence, he looked at it for a long time, then he turned it over to let the snow gather at the top of it and then turned it over again to let it snow.

And sparkling white snow fell down on us kissing.  
As he watched the snow sailing to the ground of the globe, his expression turned sadder and sadder until I saw tears in his eyes and he swallowed in distress. The snow was still falling down on us when a tear finally left his eye. I bit down on my tongue and tried hard to keep myself from crying too. It was hard for me to remain calm when someone I cared for was crying right in front of me. Suddenly so very ashamed of my entire life in luxury and such pathetic solitariness, I cast my eyes down and gazed at the floor. But I couldn’t leave him alone like that. I plucked up my courage, lifted my head again and seeing him still sitting on the floor, crying in silence, alone, staring at the kissing couple in the middle of it, I knelt down and took him in my arms.

And like a desperate child, he pressed his body against mine and sobbed. I put my hand on his head and lay my head on his and my own tears mixed with the gel in his hair. I came to feel his sorrow and his despair. And I came to feel his joy and bliss.  
I had wanted to move him, to touch his heart, but now that I had and was confronted with the reality of this, I didn’t know how to behave and I had to hope that my embrace and presence was at least of some comfort to him.  
It would have been a funny sight for anyone else, seeing two men in bathrobes sitting on the floor, hugging each other and crying next to a huge snow globe. But this was life. This was real. Not a comedy on TV, not a story being told, but real life. And it was alright. 

When his sobs faded and he seemed to have calmed down a little, he moved away from me and I let him. His eyes were red and puffy and his expression so miserable that I had to smile. I kissed him and told him that it was alright.  
He moved his lips again, like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. And again, I told him that it was alright. I dried his face with the bathrobe, then I did the same with mine and got up, but instead of leaving him there, I bent down and picked him up, taking him on my arms. He wound his around my shoulders and came to smile again. And like that, I went to the sleeping room and carefully dropped him on the bed.

I opened the knot of his bathrobe and undressed him, then I pulled down his panties and while I did so he took off the corsage. I placed his shoes in front of the bed, then I dropped my own bathrobe and lit three candles which were distributed all over the place so we’d have a lovely dim light. Without any words, I got back to him and lay down. He got it and lay down in front of me, but just a little too far away, so I pulled him closer until our bodies touched again. I loved holding him like that, because I felt like the strong man who’d protect him from anything in this world then. And he didn’t seem to mind. He snuggled up to my crotch and chest and put his hands on mine.  
Even if we wouldn’t sleep any time soon, I thought that he'd need some time for himself to digest that all and I wanted to show him that I’d be there for him. In his sorrow and in his happiness. Those tears had not been tears of sadness only. 

Something special had caused that outburst.  
People usually called it “sentimentality”, but I called it being moved. Deeply moved.  
Touched by another person, in this case. He had allowed himself to be touched, trusting me, opening up to me and exposing his precious, vulnerable soul to me. It was such a special experience for me too.  
I took a deep breath and felt his back moving along as I did so. That man with his hard shell had such a soft core. And I was glad that he had a core. Smiling with bliss, I huddled up to him and gently fondled his skin. So warm, so smooth. I rubbed my legs against his and with delight, I realized that his skin was even smoother there.

“Fuck, I love that feeling,” I whispered into his ear and grinned.

I heard him chuckling, then he said: “I thought you might like it.”

How much time had he spent on thinking up his costume and what he would do. I had been considered worthy of that time. I was such a lucky man.

“Bruce.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled into his hair which tasted like lemon. Green lemon.

“Is there some egg punch left?”

I laughed out loud and sat up.

“Of course,” I said and wiped the tears from my eyes, “I’ll get us some.”

“Better get us the whole bowl. And the meat, maybe. We’re gonna have a bed-in.”

“A bed-in?” I asked to make sure we were talking about the same thing.

“Yeah. You know, that shit with naked and hair and peace. And punch.”

“Oh right,” I said, nodding, lifting my eyebrows and I got off the bed and went to the kitchen to get us cups and the bowl. My semi-hard dick was bouncing up and down. I didn’t feel embarrassed anymore when I felt it slapping against my thighs. He loved it. So I’d love it too.  
When I came back, he was posing on the bed, playing with his dick. I stopped in the middle of the room and watched him.

“But bed-ins aren’t about naked,” I said.

“My bed-in _is_ ,” he said and grinned, “And so will be yours.”

And so was it.  
Till the morning, the bowl was empty, egg punch stains on the bed together with cum and lube stains; the candles long gone out, two bathrobes on the floor and red lingerie between them.  
And two bodies embracing, asleep, but still as close as possible.  
The best Christmas which two men had ever experienced. The night had left them exhausted and totally spent and they slept till the afternoon. And when they woke up, they only left the bed to have a piss and some water and then got back to it again.

_

Thank you for being here.  
Thank you for the love you give me, thank you for the love you feel for me.  
Thank you for considering me worthy of it. Thank you for letting me know.  
Thank you for accepting me the way I am. Even if I am being difficult sometimes.  
Thank you for smiling every time we come to meet, thank you for showing me your joy at seeing me.  
Thank you for only having eyes for me. Thank you for looking at my body like it was perfect.  
Thank you for being so careful with my soul. Thank you for being so respectful.  
Thank you for being you.  
Thank you for being with me.  
Thank you.

_


End file.
